


Stiles and Derek Have a Baby

by KaliopeShipsIt



Series: Alliteration-Verse [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 100 Pages of Mpreg Y'All, Body Modification, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Overprotective Stiles, Pack Feels, Pregnant Derek Hale, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliopeShipsIt/pseuds/KaliopeShipsIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the title says, Stiles and Derek have a baby, made possible by Derek's magical Alpha-Uterus and my belief that it doesn't always have to be Stiles who gets pregnant, gorgeous though these stories are ;-).</p><p>Join them on their journey as they: battle the evils of "Never Stops and I Want to Die"-Sickness (Derek's words), struggle with suddenly too tight skinny jeans and form-fitting Henleys, overcome unexpected protective urges and Nutella-cravings, experience the joy of the baby's first movements, argue about names and Twilight (repeatedly), and finally welcome the "cutest, most beautiful baby in the universe" (Stiles' words) to the Alliteration-Verse.</p><p>In short, 125 Pages of Mpreg Y'all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 6 Weeks and 2 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not put my stuff on Goodreads. I was not aware that part of my stories were on there and I am not comfortable with having my fan fics circulated out of my control. 
> 
>  
> 
> Beginning exactly 2 minutes after "Stiles and Derek Make a Baby," this story will be told in time-jumps of four weeks. The next chapter will be set during week 10.  
> As any self-respecting mpreg story goes, this one includes: fluff, fluff, fluff, enough fluff that it will probably come out of your ears by the end, lots of humor (hopefully), a teensy, tiny bit of drama and, most of all, boatloads of Sterek and Hale-Pack feels. 
> 
> I tried to make this as realistic as possible (well, as realistic as any mpreg will ever be), drawing on stories told to me by the mothers I know and some good old google research. I have been reading mpreg ever since I first stumbled upon it in 2002, during a short-lived Chakotay/Tom Paris phase that I went through when I was detoxing from 4 years of unrequited Janeway/Chakotay shipping, but this is the first time I am actually writing one. I hope I did this slightly out-there, quirky little beloved genre of mine justice - and I hope that it doesn't make you wince like I did when someone forced me to watch the 'cough' timeless Arnold Schwarzenegger classic "Junior."
> 
> Heed the warnings in the tags (they will be updated as the story gestates, so to speak, I really dislike spoiler tags in unfinished fics), and come along on Derek and Stiles' journey to welcome "the cutest, most beautiful baby in the entire universe."

**_Previously at 6 Weeks_ **

_“Are you …” Stiles began, voice barely above a whisper. “Are we … really?” he asked, his shocked expression morphing into a grin that was so full of happiness Derek almost felt like he was floating._

_“I’m pregnant,” he said, and now Stiles was crying as well, because he’d waited a really long time to hear these words come out of Derek’s mouth._

_“We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered in wonderment, dropping down on his knees so that his face was level with Derek’s waist, pressing a soft kiss against the thin fabric of Derek’s shirt, right between their joined hands._

_“Not just any baby,” Derek said and Stiles looked up at him, grinning happily. “That’s right,” he replied, his eyes shining with love as he looked back at Derek’s belly._

_“It’s going to be the cutest, most beautiful baby in the entire universe.”_

 

**_6 Weeks and 2 Minutes - October 17th 2022_ **

 

Keeping something a secret in a house full of werewolves was an almost impossible task, and the news that Derek had finally conceived, more than one and a half years after they had first decided to try for a child, were kept secret for all of two minutes, before Scott McCall, True Alpha of Beacon Hills and therefore blessed with exceptionally good hearing, discovered he was going to be an uncle.

Stiles’ hands were still pushed against Derek’s firm, muscular abdomen, Derek’s hands were stroking his mate’s face and they were both sobbing, laughing, and grinning so widely that their ears were in danger of falling off when Scott rushed through the door, alerted by all the crying.

“What’s wrong?” he panted as he stumbled into the tiny bathroom, accidentally knocking Stiles over and almost sending him flying over the edge of the bathtub.

Derek’s arms wrapped around his midsection immediately, suddenly terrified that Scott was going to run into him as well, but Scott had already come to a screeching halt, grabbing the counter to catch his breath.

“Oh my gosh, guys! You can’t scare me like this! Derek, you never cry, and I haven’t heard Stiles cry in years either, I thought someone had died,” he panted, looking at their matching smiles with an accusatory frown.

“Why are you laughing and crying? Are you going mad?” Scott asked, his hand brushing against the pregnancy test by accident when he moved it along the counter.

Like Stiles before him, Scott stilled, gaze fixed on the little positive sign.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, loud enough that Derek could hear the other Betas snapping to attention in the garden and making their way towards the bathroom.

Scott dropped the stick like it was on fire, probably remembering that Derek had actually peed on it, and stepped up to the other Alpha, apparently having forgotten that he normally respected Derek’s personal space.

“There’s a baby in there?” Scott breathed in amazement, his hand pressed somewhere between Derek’s pecs and ribcage.

“I don’t think it’s quite up there,” Derek said shakily, tears still running down his cheeks when he grabbed Scott’s hand and placed it below his navel.

“I think it’s currently down here.”

Scott inhaled sharply, his wide eyes meeting first Derek’s and then Stiles’.

“You guys are having a baby … I really wanted this to work for you … wow, you guys are having a _baby_!” he whispered, and the slight wobble of his lips was all the warning they got before Scott lunged for Stiles and Derek at the same time, pulled his best friend and his mate into a bear hug and started bawling.

“What in the world is going on in here?” Cora’s voice suddenly rang out and when Derek looked towards the door the entire pack was peering inside, pushing against each other to get a closer look.

There was no way they could fit a fourth crying werewolf or human into the tiny bathroom and he tried to dislodge himself from Scott’s congratulatory embrace, with little success as Scott’s only response was to hug them even harder.

“Scott, let the man breath,” Melissa called from somewhere behind Allison, her eyes suspiciously moist when she saw the looks of bliss on the expectant parents’ faces and Scott immediately let go, looking worried.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked frantically and Derek shook his head, gently pushing Scott away from him and out of the door, where he immediately latched onto a confused Allison and continued sniffling.

“What is going on?” Cora repeated, coming to stand next to her brother, who was busy wiping tears from his face.

Derek wasn’t sure if it was because they were family and she was more attuned to his normal smell, but Cora suddenly pushed her nose against his neck, inhaling deeply, before squatting and pressing her face against his side.

“What is that?” she exhaled, a whole range of emotions flitting across her normally distant face.

“That …” Stiles declared proudly, figuring there was no way Scott was going to be able to keep his mouth shut about his discovery any longer, “would be our baby.”

===============

Five hours later they had finally managed to steal away from the party, a task somewhat complicated by the fact that almost all of Derek’s Betas had developed strong protective urges immediately upon finding out their Alpha was pregnant, and Derek didn’t think he had ever been touched or hugged as much in his life.

He was still too happy to really mind, but he hoped that the pack’s tactile urges would lessen as he progressed in his pregnancy.

He couldn’t see himself enjoying the constant touching when he was in his third trimester and large as a house.

He trailed one hand along his abs, hadn’t really been able to stop ever since Melissa had gently urged him to take another pregnancy test, and he couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief that this was real, this was finally happening, and they would be having a living, breathing baby in 9 months.

He could hardly wrap his mind around the idea that these abs would go away soon, that he would grow larger and larger, his belly rounded with their child.

They were on their way to the Sheriff’s house.

Stiles’ father had not been at the party, which meant that he was the last one left to find out about the life-changing news his son and mate had to share.

When Derek parked the Camaro Stiles fidgeted nervously.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked and Stiles grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly.

“I’m perfect. It’s just a little overwhelming,” he responded.

Well, Derek certainly understood the feeling. The light on the front porch was suddenly turned on and the Sheriff opened the door, apparently having just gotten home from work and still in his uniform.

“It’s almost midnight,” Stiles’ father said with a look at his watch, taking in the men’s red-rimmed eyes and stepping towards them immediately, the expression on his face changing from curious to concerned.

“Oh no, what happened now?” he exhaled with a deep sigh, almost stumbling in surprise when Stiles flung himself at his father, obviously not able to wait any longer.

“Dad!” he whispered, voice shaking again. “I’m going to be a Daddy!”

John’s eyes shot towards Derek over Stiles’ shoulder and he mouthed, “Really?” his lips stretching into a large smile when Derek nodded, his hand going to his abdomen once again.

He didn’t think he had ever seen the Sheriff smile that brightly before when the grandfather-to-be broke out into a happy grin, one arm beckoning Derek to come closer so he could hug him as well.

“Would you be surprised to hear that this doesn’t surprise me at all actually?” John said five minutes later, when they were standing inside the kitchen and Stiles and his father shared a celebratory shot of whiskey.

“How come?” Derek asked with a slight frown and the Sheriff beckoned them to follow him up the stairs, leading them to the guest bedroom and opening the door.

Derek could only stare as he took in the half-finished nursery, missing only a crib and maybe some gender-specific wall decorations, if they wanted to be stereotypical about it.

With a soft smile John tugged Derek towards a beautiful rocking chair, handcrafted and painted in soothing teal and navy blue colors.

“I drove past a yard sale on my way to work today,” John explained, nodding for Derek to sit down in the chair, “and when I saw this I just had this strong feeling that I had to buy it. I guess my grandfatherly intuition was right on track,” he grinned and Stiles threw an arm around his dad’s shoulders, not really knowing what to say.

Derek slowly rocked back and forth in the chair, obviously still in shock at the existence of the nursery.

“This looks like you have been working on it for a while,” he finally said quietly and John nodded.

“About one and a half years actually, I started the evening you boys first said you were going to start trying for a baby. I knew it would come in handy sooner or later.”

They looked at each other in silent wonderment, each of them imagining what the future would bring.

===================

In Derek’s case, the immediate future brought nausea, vomiting, and misery.

After confirming the pregnancy the day after they had found out, Deaton had cautioned him that the queasiness he had felt in the past couple of days would likely get worse and five days after that memorable day in Isaac’s tiny little bathroom, Derek opened his eyes, stretched, sat up in the bed – and promptly shot up to run to the bathroom.

He was still vomiting into the toilet when his mate scrambled into the room and hovered over him, obviously not sure what to do.

“I read that men could either hold their women’s hair back or rub their back in support,” Stiles said timidly when Derek leaned back with a sigh and flushed the toilet.

“I don’t think the hair thing makes any sense in my case, you would only end up pulling it unnecessarily,” Derek said, his voice a little muffled since he had dropped his head back down, resting it on the cool lid of the toilet.

Stiles laughed nervously.

“Well … are you going to bite my hand off if I touch you when you are throwing up?” he asked and Derek paled again, pressing his hand against his stomach as if he was willing it to stop rolling.

“I don’t think I’m going to bite into anything right now,” he said, eyes going wide before he jerked the lid up again and became sick a second time.

Stiles dropped to his knees behind him and touched his back lightly and when Derek was done he allowed himself to fall backwards, aware that this was an exact role reversal of the Knotting-Aftermath incident four and a half years ago in the Sheriff’s bathroom – with the difference that this time there actually was a baby.

“Are you feeling better yet?” Stiles asked after a while, helping Derek up and leading him back towards their bed.

“Not really,” Derek sighed, still much too pale for Stiles’ liking.

“But the morning is almost over and it’s called morning sickness, right? I should start feeling better soon, I guess.”

Stiles nodded enthusiastically. “It would make sense, right?”

==============

A couple of days later Derek would have laughed out loud at his naïveté, had he not been too afraid that opening his mouth to laugh would result in projectile vomiting.

He had quickly come to find out that if there had ever been a misnomer, it was definitely morning sickness.

Morning-afternoon-evening sickness would have been more appropriate.

It was getting old rapidly – especially during a very long night at the beginning of his eighth week of pregnancy, when he had decided to rename morning sickness into Never-Stops-and-I-Want-to-Die sickness.

Stiles had laughed darkly.

At 11 PM his mate had declared that he would not sleep until Derek was able to sleep and around midnight he had put some blankets on the cold bathroom floor and sat down on the ledge of the bathtub with a Stephen King novel.

Derek had curled up on the floor until almost 7 AM and when he wasn’t busy throwing up, Stiles had been reading him the novel to at least try to take his mind off the constant nausea.

Although he had felt absolutely horrible, Derek didn’t think he had ever loved the human more.

They had made it to page 450 before Derek finally felt well enough – or exhausted enough, neither of them was really sure at that point – to fall asleep.

Luckily they did not have to repeat that particular experience, but it seemed like the nausea never really stopped, making him feel weak and occasionally dizzy.

Stiles had _freaked_ out on him the other day when he had supposedly swayed alarmingly at the top of the stairs, but so far he had not had to add fainting to his rapidly growing list of typical pregnancy-symptoms checklist.

Most of the time he did not feel much like eating, but saltines had appeared all over the apartment, and when he wasn’t feeling too bad he tried to eat as much as he could, afraid that he was going to somehow starve the child and aware that he had lost a little bit of weight.

He was lying on the couch when Stiles came back from work one evening, hand lightly resting on his belly and chewing on one of the bland crackers.

Stiles kissed his forehead before making himself comfortable on the couch next to him, propping Derek’s head up on his legs and stroking his hair gently.

“So Derek, I’ve been thinking,” he said after a while, “we should talk about baby names.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “We don’t even know what it is going to be yet and you already want to name it? Don’t you think that’s a bit early?”

Stiles shrugged. “I know, but I was listening to my colleagues at work today and one of them was saying how he and his wife almost spent 8 months trying to agree on a baby name.”

Derek sighed, closing his eyes when he felt another wave of nausea building up inside of him.

“Any ideas then?” he asked, desperate for Stiles to distract him. He was not going to throw up _again_ today and he was determined about it.

“Well,” Stiles said with a grin, clearly oblivious to the way Derek’s tanned skin was quickly turning ashen. “How about Renesmee?”

Derek did _not_ feel particularly sorry when he accidentally vomited all over Stiles’ lap in response.

 


	2. 10 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes a bit overboard with his overprotectiveness, forcing Derek and the pack to take drastic actions.  
> Also, a little bit of smut because, you know, reasons.

_10 Weeks - November 14th 2022_

 

Nine days out of ten Stiles loved the heck out of Derek.

He loved his loyalty, his caring nature, the graceful way he moved, his strength, the rare but beautiful smiles … he just loved all of him.

He had always loved looking at Derek, sometimes openly staring, sometimes when he knew Derek wasn’t paying attention, and ever since they had found out Derek was carrying their baby four weeks ago, Stiles had found it almost impossible to _stop_ looking at him.

Derek wasn’t showing any outwards signs of being pregnant yet, his stomach was still flat, at most a tiny bit less defined around the edges if you looked with a magnifying glass, and his chest was as defined and muscular as ever, having no breasts that could have started to swell.

Stiles was certain that his mate’s nipples were starting to look a bit darker, but that might have been a trick of the light.

All things considered, Stiles himself had no way of making sure there was actually a baby inside of his Derek, but he knew it was there nevertheless.

He could see it in the joyful faces of the pack, their ears literally perking up every time they got near their Alpha and picked up on the tiny heartbeat, a sound that had just begun to become noticeable and that Stiles knew Derek was always at least partially listening to, paranoid it would stop if he wasn’t paying enough attention.

He could see it in the way they had started to scent him and the unborn child, Cora being even bold enough to press her nose right below Derek’s navel one night, a habit that Derek pretend-grumbled about but secretly enjoyed.

He could tell it was there because Derek had turned into a walking, talking pregnancy cliché, everything about him glowing, especially his eyes, which were shining with love and happiness even when he was exhausted.

Stiles had actually made the mistake of comparing Derek to a sparkling Edward Cullen once, having yet again forgotten his mate’s deep distaste for the _Twilight-_ books.

It was a mistake he had not made since.

Most of all, Stiles knew the baby was there because Derek’s inner wolf had gone into overprotective mood, making him rest his hand lightly on his abdomen at all times.

He would rub his belly when they were sitting in the car to go somewhere, when they went to the movies, and when they picked out meat at the deli counter.

An old woman had given Derek a _very_ confused look on the street once, obviously not trusting her instincts and Stiles had winked at her before steering Derek away gently, not wanting the poor woman to freak out about her discovery of Beacon Hill’s one and only pregnant man.

Stiles was longing for the day Derek would finally start to show, the day when he would finally see the evidence of his child’s existence at all times.

He was the child’s daddy after all, and it seemed unfair to him that he was the only one who could not pick up on the heartbeat or smell the scent of the baby, which Scott had assured him was very sweet and gave you all kinds of overprotective feelings.

Technically, neither could the proud grandparents-to-be – Stiles had declared Melissa the honorary grandmother almost immediately after they had told the pack about the baby – but he was the _daddy_ and he really felt that he should be able to sense the baby at least _somehow_.

Therefore, Derek had made it a routine to run errands with Stiles every couple of days, errands that _coincidentally_ caused them to pass by the hospital, at which point Derek would always suggest to visit Melissa and have her take a quick look, just to be sure everything was fine and also because they still could, since he wasn’t showing yet.

Stiles knew he was humoring him, realized that it was not technically necessary to listen to the baby’s tiny heartbeat every other day, but the rushing sound coming from the ultrasound machine never ceased to amaze him.

He had recorded it and now used it as a ringtone for his phone.

He was already _that_ kind of father and the baby was only the size of a kidney bean at this point – he knew that for sure because he had downloaded the app “What Does My Baby Look Like This Week” the day after they had found out.

So yes, nine days out of ten Stiles loved the heck out of Derek, the love of his life, his mate, who was carrying their baby.

On the tenth day he also loved the heck out of Derek, but those were also the days when Derek annoyed the hell out of him at the same time.

Today was such a day.

“I don’t care if you are a werewolf with super strength, you are carrying my child and I absolutely forbid it,” he exclaimed, fixing Derek with a stubborn glare.

Derek’s eyes flashed red in annoyance.

“You cannot forbid me anything,” he began, but Stiles interrupted him, his own eyes flashing not with color but with fury.

“Don’t you _dare_ go all Alpha on me, I am _not_ one of your Betas, I’m your _mate_ and the _father_ of our child and I absolutely and completely forbid you from doing this!” he growled.

Based on werewolf standards it was probably a 3, but for a human Stiles was proud to say his growls were at least a 9.5, if not a 10 on the scale of impressive scariness, and he bristled when Derek acted like he was not impressed at all.

“ _Fine_ ,” he spat, “but I am the other father of this child, and whether you like this or not _I’m_ the one that can make the decision of whether I can do this or not!”

He brushed past Stiles and was out of the door before the younger man could stop him, taking two steps at a time in his haste to get away from his overprotective mate.

“Don’t fall down the stairs!” Stiles yelled after him, aware that Derek could probably hear the way his heart had sped up at the sight of his pregnant mate carelessly running down the steep stairs.

The responding growl echoed throughout the entire building.

Frustrated, Stiles walked back into the loft and dropped onto the sofa, his hands tearing at his hair in exasperation.

He couldn’t for the life of him understand why Derek was refusing to see reason. It was almost as if he didn’t remember the past four weeks of nausea and exhaustion at all.

Lately, it hadn’t been _quite_ as bad, but Derek still had to throw up at least once every other day, sometimes more than once, and Stiles would be damned if he allowed him to continue construction work on the old Hale house in his weakened state.

The fact that he had yet to throw up today did not make it ok for him to do so either.

When his phone rang, Stiles half-expected it to be Derek, but his father was on the line instead.

“Son,” he greeted him, his tone a mixture of amusement and accusation. “Your extremely annoyed mate just dropped by the station and ranted about you. He was glaring so furiously that he almost scared my new deputy into quitting. Would you care to tell me why you have forbidden him from going up to his old house to hang a _picture_ on the recently finished living-room wall?”

Stiles sighed. His father hadn’t been the one to rub Derek’s back through bout after bout of nausea, had not been the one who had seen him almost faint with exhaustion on three different occasions. He wouldn’t understand.

“I don’t want him going out there alone, period.” Stiles said, aware that he sounded like a stubborn child. “He could faint and no one would know until it was too late, he could feel dizzy all of a sudden and the hammer could slip and he could accidentally swing it into his stomach instead of into the wall. I almost lost him because he wanted to replace some wooden paneling half a year ago, the house is a death trap in its current state and I am not about to lose him,” he finished and his father sighed deeply over the phone.

“Alright son, I completely understand,” he said and Stiles nodded grimly. He was being reasonable after all.

“Derek mentioned he was going to get some ice-cream to cool off, you know, at that new frozen yoghurt place. Maybe you would want to join him?” his father suggested and Stiles thanked him before hanging up quickly, already on his way out.

He was certain he had read somewhere that you could get salmonella poisoning from ice cream and who knew what kind of health-hazardous imbeciles ran that new store.

When Stiles got to the place Derek was nowhere to be seen and when he called his phone, Derek picked up after the third ring, grunting, “I’m home,” before hanging up on him.

Stiles sighed in relief. He drove back to the loft and had barely set his foot into the dark apartment when the lights were turned on and Stiles found himself staring at his pissed off mate and the entire pack, including Melissa and John.

They were standing under a banner that proclaimed “Intervention” in Scott’s big, sloppy handwriting and Stiles shot his traitorous best friend an evil glare.

Derek was giving him a look that somehow managed to say “I’m sorry” and “I’m not sorry at all you annoying menace” at the same time, making use of his impressive eyebrows to accomplish this feat.

His frustrated gaze never left Stiles’ when Scott stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“So, uhm. This is an intervention, I guess,” he said, scratching behind his ears and clearly feeling very uncomfortable.

“We love you, but we think you are spiraling out of control,” Allison added, stepping up next to her husband and giving Stiles a compassionate, yet firm glare.

It was Lydia’s turn next, the redhead giving him a cold stare that could have frozen lava. “It affects me to hear Derek rant about your over-protectiveness – I get headaches and I don’t appreciate it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest in determination.

“I love you son, but Derek is carrying my grandbaby and I have to be on his side here, so I’m sorry but I am going to tell you that Derek is a grown man and if he wants to hammer a nail into the wall to hang up a picture you need to trust him enough to know that he is not putting himself or the baby in danger,” his father spoke next and Stiles gave him a wounded glare, his mind flashing back to their earlier telephone conversation when his dad had pretended to actually understand him.

“You have every right to be concerned for Derek’s well-being, but nausea and exhaustion are a common symptom in the first trimester of pregnancy and it does not mean that you can deny Derek agency over his own life, no matter how pale and exhausted he looks,” Melissa huffed, clearly on Derek’s side as the only member of the group who had actually been pregnant before.

“When you make my Alpha mad I feel miserable and it affects me,” Isaac said dutifully, his eyes darting towards Derek who nodded in approval.

“Derek is a smart man, who is much more attuned to his physical needs than a human and therefore not in danger of hurting himself or the baby,” Boyd seemed to recite from memory, frowning as if he was concentrating to remember the exact wording.

It was Jackson’s turn next and he stepped forward with an air of importance, waving his arms dramatically. “Derek is 33 years old and should therefore be allowed to make his own … cherries in life?”

He squinted at the little paper in his hand in confusion, before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it away carelessly.

“Ok so Derek wrote us all a list with items we were supposed to mention, but I’m sorry man, your handwriting is too shitty, so I’m just going to make up my own reason. Basically, Stilinski, you annoy the heck out of all of us. We are done watching you treating Derek like a child; we are done listening to Derek whine about it. If he needs to hurl, he’s going to hurl and there is nothing you can do about it, so you just need to suck it up, be glad that you aren’t the one that’s going to get fat and just leave the poor man the fuck alone.”

Jackson glanced at his fellow intervention conspirators triumphantly, frowning when he saw the hectic abort-motions the Sheriff, Melissa, Lydia, Erica, and Allison were making with their hands.

The Beta turned towards Derek and mouthed “Oh shit,” in realization, when he saw his Alpha hiding his midsection with both arms, looking very miserable all of a sudden.

“What we’re trying to say is …” Lydia jumped in again, intent on salvaging the situation, “you really need to dial it down a notch, nobody ever hurt a baby by hammering a nail into the wall. We get that you’re worried, it’s not like we aren’t, but making Derek’s life miserable is not helping the situation,” she said, stepping next to Derek and lightly grasping his shoulder.

“So you guys need to hug it out, kiss it out, or whatever you want to do, but we are getting the hell out of here now,” she nodded jerkily towards Erica and Body, who hastily tore down the Intervention banner.

The entire pack quickly shuffled out of the door, but not before Melissa could smack the back of Jackson’s head with slightly more force than necessary.

“Ouch!” Jackson exclaimed as she pulled him out of the door by his ears, followed by a very displeased Lydia.

The door fell shut and Stiles stared at Derek in silence for a while. “Was I really so bad that the entire pack had to stage an intervention?” he asked and Derek rubbed a hand over his face tiredly.

“I probably could have waited another couple of weeks,” he conceded, flashing his mate a tired grin, “but I figured it was just going to get worse and I wanted to put a stop to this before I start to show and you try to chain me to the bed so I can’t bump into things or people when I walk,” Derek said, both hands lying flat over his stomach again and looking very unsure of himself all of a sudden.

Stiles was going to hurt Jackson. He was going to hurt him plenty.

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he protested lightly, fully aware that yes, he probably would have suggested Derek never leave the house again.

Then again … “But you do realize that once you actually begin to really look pregnant, not just a guy with a beer belly but actually pregnant, that you will probably have to stay hidden away anyways, right?” he said and Derek’s hold on his midsection tightened.

“I know,” he said quietly and with all the fight seemingly having gone out of him, Stiles felt it was safe to approach, so approach he did, wrapping him long arms around Derek and drawing the man into a tight embrace.

“I promise I’ll behave better from now on,” Stiles smiled against his ear, his hands lightly stroking up and down Derek’s back.

“Also, you realize that I’m kind of dying for you to finally start showing right? You are going to be so gorgeous, I won’t be able to stop looking at you for more than a second, mark my words,” he continued, stepping around Derek so he could hug him from behind, his hands coming to rest below Derek’s navel.

“I’m not going to be fat,” Derek huffed, trying to sound annoyed but Stiles could tell he was still unsure and he shook his head fondly: Derek and his ridiculous attachment to his abs, fine abs though they were.

He gently nudged against the man’s hands and Derek let them fall to his sides, giving Stiles free access to runs his fingers up and down his entire torso.

Still no protrusion that was worth mentioning, but yep, there it was, the formerly rock-hard, chiseled abs were definitely beginning to soften and starting to lose definition, which he could feel even through the separating layer of shirt.

“You’re going to be so gorgeous,” he whispered, suddenly very much turned on.

It was a process he was still getting used to, being aroused by the idea of Derek’s pregnancy. Stiles had experimented with a lot of kinky porn in his youth and even in the early days of their relationship, wanting to know everything he could about what would make his and Derek’s sex life the most fulfilling, and through all of it pregnancy-fetishes had never held any appeal to him.

Now that his own mate was pregnant, he felt more attracted to him than he ever had – and that was _a lot_ of attraction, considering he had spent the past ten years in a near-constant state of Derek-induced arousal – and really, the only time Derek’s hands weren’t touching his belly in any form it was because Stiles had _his_ hands plastered all over it.

Then again, it was probably a situational, hormonal thing; Stiles figured Derek was very likely drenching him in hot pregnancy hormones every time they touched, so he had decided not to feel weird about it and instead embrace this new, exciting aspect of their sex life.

It maybe wasn’t the most tactful way to ease Derek’s worries, but it was the only one he could think of with a half-hard erection pushing against the seam of his jeans, so he pressed his groin against Derek and rubbed himself against the smooth flesh of his butt gently, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Derek’s jeans to pull him closer against him.

Derek laughed, throwing his head back so that his neck was bared for Stiles – a gesture of trust that was always guaranteed to turn Stiles on full-force, which Derek very well knew.

They were definitely in business.

With a low moan Stiles dragged his lips over the sensitive skin, biting down gently and worrying at the flesh with his teeth.

Derek groaned, his arm coming up and reaching behind him so he could pull Stiles mouth towards his for an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss.

The fact that there was merely an inch of height difference between them certainly came in handy at times like these and Stiles kissed back with all the love he had for Derek, one of his hands fumbling to open the button of Derek’s jeans.

He turned Derek around so that he was facing him and dropped to his knees in front of his mate, sliding the jeans past Derek’s thighs and down to his ankles so Derek could step out of them.

Derek’s affinity for calve-hugging skinny jeans always required a bit of extra-help to get rid of them quickly and Stiles felt tingles of excitement course through him when he remembered that the skinny jeans would soon be a thing of the past.

He straightened his back so his mouth was poised directly over Derek’s navel, using both of his hands to gently grasp the man’s hips and pulling his abdomen towards his face, giving him access to gently lick and kiss the skin, nosing all over the flesh in an imitation of a scenting practice.

There was no way he would be able to pick up on the baby’s smell, but Derek definitely smelled sweet and Stiles just pretended he could.

Derek’s wolf was obviously fooled, the man’s hands grasping Stiles’ head by his ears to push him deeper into his belly and he shuddered when Stiles playfully licked into his belly button.

“Bed?” Derek moaned above him and Stiles nodded, removing himself from Derek’s belly with a hint of regret and tugging him up the stairs to their bedroom.

The part of him that was constantly worried made a note to think about relocating the bed downstairs once Derek reached his third trimester, the long, winded flight of stairs certainly not good for him, but then Derek rubbed his palm against the still clothed erection he was sporting and all paranoid thoughts about the danger of stairs flew out the window.

Derek opened Stiles’ jeans and pushed them and his boxers down easily, having obviously lost his patience and resulting in a delicious sound of skin slapping against skin when his straining erection was freed and bounced against his abdomen.

Why was Derek still wearing his boxer-briefs? Stiles needed to change that right now and so he did, electing to pull down the briefs with only his teeth, just to see if he could do it.

He could, although Derek’s leaking dick almost hit him in the face for his troubles. Above him Derek began to laugh, and Stiles quickly used his hands to pull the briefs down the rest of the way, intent on stopping Derek’s laughter.

Normally he would have gone for Derek’s mouth or dick, but now that he was really paying attention, Derek’s nipples definitely looked darker and he wondered if the change of color had also brought on a change in sensitivity.

Stiles was more sensitive in that area than Derek, who liked it when Stiles played with them, but probably more because Stiles enjoyed it than actually feeling the physical effect.

Stiles’ natural curiosity got the better of him and he fastened his mouth on the left one without warning, rolling his tongue around the hard nub once before sucking.

He didn’t suck very hard, he had read that pregnant women’s nipples were so sensitive it could easily become painful, but the sucking motion was definitely obvious.

The response was extremely gratifying. Derek’s laughter turned into a whine – and actual, honest-to-god _whine_ – and he arched his back off the bed so abruptly that he almost threw Stiles off of him, another spurt of precome leaking down his shaft and wetting Stiles’ thighs, which were slotted in between Derek’s spread legs.

Exploratory mission accomplished, Stiles high-fived himself internally, releasing the nipple with a little pop and repeating the exercise on the other, and this time he actually had to hold down Derek’s hips.

“Oh my god!” Derek gasped, one of his hands gripping the base of his penis and clenching down hard. “You need to stop doing this right now. I really want to fuck you, but if you do that one more time there’s no way I am going to last long enough,” he groaned, and Stiles chuckled affectionately, sitting up a little so he could capture Derek’s mouth.

“We are going to take a look at that reaction in much more detail later then,” he grinned and Derek almost sobbed in response.

He knew that Derek preferred preparing him rather than watch him do it himself, but figuring that Derek needed a moment to get himself under control again Stiles grabbed the lube out of the beside table and laid down on his back, spreading his legs so Derek had a first-seat view of the proceedings and began to prepare himself, fucking himself on his long, dexterous fingers.

Derek’s eyes were clenched shut as he forced himself to breath steadily, and when he felt himself sufficiently prepared to take his mate, Stiles prodded his own prostate for good measure, resulting in a loud moan that made Derek’s eyes snap open instantly.

His hands were still shaking when he hooked Stiles’ legs over his shoulders, recreating the position that they had most likely conceived their baby in, if Stiles was not mistaken, and he bucked his hips to signal to Derek to get a move on, needing to feel that intimate connection to him right now.

Derek groaned as he entered him, picking up his pace almost immediately. Derek hadn’t felt up for sex in a while and seeing his mate so aroused and out of control sent Stiles over the edge quicker than he maybe would have liked, but Derek didn’t seem to mind, snapping his hips against Stiles as his thrusts became more and more forceful and when he came he collapsed on top of Stiles’ chest, panting and smiling at the same time.  

They took a shower together afterwards and once Stiles had changed the sweaty sheets they cuddled up next to each other, knowing that they would have to adapt their sex life sooner rather than later, but excited for the changes it would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: 14 Weeks, also known as The Week Derek Experiences an Epic Skinny-Jeans Fail


	3. 14 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek experiences an epic skinny jeans fail.

_14 Weeks – December 16 th 2022_

 

With Derek’s first trimester finally behind him, most of the constant exhaustion and nausea had gone away, making both his and Stiles’ lives a bit easier. He still tired more quickly than he normally would have and certain smells still made him gag, but all in all it was no comparison to the weeks of misery he had endured during the first part of the pregnancy.

As a result, the old house was coming along nicely. Of course that also had to do with the fact that the pack had begun to help him, a compromise Stiles had finally gotten his stubborn mate to agree to by pointing out to him that he would never be able to finish renovating the house in time before the baby was born on his own, and wouldn’t that be lovely to bring the baby home to the house rather than the loft, to have it spend his or her first night in the room Derek had slept in as an infant? So yeah, maybe he had been playing dirty, but it had had the desired effect and with the many extra hands of strong werewolves they were actually making more progress than Derek had anticipated.

Stiles had mostly kept his promise of easing up on the overprotective behavior, however, he still occasionally waved his smart phone in front of Derek’s face with a grim expression, having found yet another possible risk that could endanger Derek or the baby. Stiles claimed that there was no way he could help it, seeing how he was basically the new emissary of the Hale pack _and_ the resident research expert and arguing that researching everything just came like second nature to him.

Lydia had decided to make fun of him one day, programming the search engine on Stiles’ laptop to direct him to a YouTube clip of the song “Don’t Worry Be Happy” every time he typed in the words risk or pregnancy, a joke that Derek had found hilarious and Stiles had grumbled about for days.

It wasn’t that Derek wasn’t worried, but unlike Stiles he was able to listen to their child’s heartbeat every second of every day and for some reason that he couldn’t quite name he just trusted his werewolf instincts to alert him if something was wrong.

In addition to his own instincts, he visited Alan Deaton every other week, reporting how he felt and helping the former emissary catalogue any changes in his body. The literature on male werewolf pregnancy was very scarce and Deaton had made it his mission to record any and every helpful information for future generations, a task that Derek didn’t mind enabling, since it gave him the additional peace of mind to know that everything was going well.

Now that he was no longer so nauseous, his appetite had also returned and on more than one occasion the pack had gagged at the combinations he had started eating, with Erica complaining that he really didn’t need to fulfill _every_ single cliché there was to fulfill concerning pregnancy.

Boyd had stomped on her foot and Erica had poked her elbow in his side with a frown, furiously whispering, “It’s enough that he freakin’ actually _glows_ like one of those sparkle vampires _,_ does he _really_ have to eat pickles with ice cream, this is ridiculous!”

Derek wasn’t sure if it had been the ice cream with pickles, or the celery dipped in Nutella – a choice he had defended by arguing that people ate celery with peanut butter all the time and it was just a different nut – but the effect on his waistline had definitely been damaging. It was a realization he came to on a morning when he was supposed to pick up Melissa for a nice brunch and some advice-talk and his efforts to close the button of his skinny jeans actually had him break out into a sweat.

Granted, the waistband had begun to cut into his skin after a big meal lately, but he had figured that that was normal, now that he actually allowed himself to have big meals on a regular basis. As a result, he hadn’t realized he was outgrowing all of his jeans at a rapid pace. This was actually the roomiest one he owned and it still wouldn’t button.  

Stiles was already at work, not being able to work from home like Derek could with his editing job, and luckily not here to witness the shameful spectacle, especially the part where Derek laid flat on the bed in his hopeless attempts to suck in his stomach to get the button closed, the reason for the hopelessness being that he simply couldn’t.

He had maybe accumulated a thin layer of pudge, courtesy of too much Nutella and ice cream, but underneath his belly was hard and unyielding, and he finally gave up on buttoning the jeans altogether. He was still able to pull them up to his waist though, and since the fit was so tight and they were not going to fall down his legs with a wrong movement, Derek decided to just wear them open, resolved to go buy a new pair as soon as he had the time. His decision made, he went hunting through his closet to find a shirt long enough so that it would fall over the waistband and hide it.

Thirty dark-colored Henleys later Derek was getting desperate. Literally all he owned was form-fitting and not very long at all and there was no way he was going to fit his arms into one of Stiles’ plaid shirts, no matter how hard he tried.

He had just resigned himself to just keeping his also regrettably short jacket closed for the duration of the meal when a garish flash of neon red and glitter caught his eye. He closed his eyes in defeat and sighed deeply, placing his hand on the barely there bulge and rubbing gently.

“I love you baby,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the monstrosity in Stiles’ side of the closet, “but you are so getting grounded for making me do this when you’re old enough.”

==============

It was a testament to what a nice person Melissa McCall actually was, Derek decided, when Scott’s mother didn’t say anything about his attire when he picked her up, stayed silent on the matter throughout the car ride, and even managed to keep a straight face when he took off his jacket and revealed the horror he was wearing in its entirety.

It wasn’t until they had ordered their food that Melissa leaned forward hesitantly and touched Derek’s sleeve carefully, looking like she was afraid it was going to come to life and bite her.

“So, Derek,” she began tactfully, her eyes roaming over his chest, “I think it is wonderful that you are getting into the Christmas spirit, we’re only a little over a week away from Christmas Eve after all, but don’t you think this … uhm … _beautiful_ Christmas sweater is maybe overdoing it just a tiny little bit?” Derek hid his face behind his hands with a low groan.

The sweater was neon-red, and on his front glittery golden Christmas angels that looked more like terrifying harpies were blowing trumpets, while a clearly crack-addicted blob-shaped Santa Claus sat on an ugly brown sled, pulled by something Derek assumed were supposed to be reindeers but actually looked like fat sea lions with antlers. The worst of it, however, were the elves, especially the big one next to Santa, who was grimly staring out right above Derek’s navel, surrounded by presents and an assortment of tiny elves that looked more like unhappy gnomes.

“Is that … Gollum?” Melissa interrupted his musings; her finger hovering above Derek’s navel and Derek placed his hand on his stomach to hide the monstrosity.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he grumbled, and Melissa broke out into laughter.

“I seem to remember Stiles bought it for that very same reason, back when he had that _Lord of the Rings_ phase. He swore it was the only Christmas sweater with Gollum on it in existence. Which brings me to another question – why are you wearing Stiles’ clothes?” she asked gently, a look of compassionate understanding dawning on her face when Derek blushed.

“I wouldn’t have, normally,” he began, cupping his hand around the little protrusion hidden underneath the terrible sweater, “it’s just that I seem to no longer be able to button my jeans and I didn’t want to embarrass you by running around with my pants open, but none of my shirts were long enough to cover that,” he explained, mentally reminding himself that his shirts were not only too short, but also beginning to cling to his belly, not yet too tight, but definitely getting there.

“Oh honey,” Melissa said, reaching over the table and gently taking his hand in hers. “Gollum is _never_ the answer to a wardrobe crisis,” she chuckled and despite his embarrassment Derek found himself laughing along with her.

“Tell you what,” she continued after they had recovered, winking at Derek over the plates of delicious breakfast food their waitress had just placed on their table.

“I’m off work today and after we are done eating, we are going to go shopping and getting you new clothes, some that will fit you well for now and some that you can grow into later. I would send you with Stiles, but, as this Christmas sweater proves quite painfully, his taste is not really all that great when it comes to clothing.”

Derek flashed her a grateful smile. It would definitely be nice to be able to button his jeans again, not only for modesty reasons, but also for his own peace of mind.

When he got home a couple of hours later, Stiles still wasn’t home yet and Derek put the new clothes into the washer, deciding to take a quick nap while he waited for them to be done, so he could change into his new, comfy sweatpants and get started on dinner.

He was turning into a 1950s housewife, he mused when he struggled out of the jeans, sighing in relief when he had gotten the tight material off and ruefully inspecting the red marks along his belly: barefoot, in the kitchen, and pregnant. On a whim, he decided to only cook barefoot from now on, wondering how long it would take Stiles to comment on the irony.

He was actually a little tired when he slipped under the covers, sleeping longer than he had intended and only waking when he felt Stiles slip into the bed next to him and snuggle up to his back, hands immediately going to the naked flesh below his navel.

“I hung your clothes up to dry, putting them in the dryer could possibly make them shrink and I don’t think that’s what you were going for by buying new clothes. I like them though, very much your style,” he murmured into Derek’s shoulder and the older man blushed, aware that he was being ridiculous.

“It won’t be long now until everyone can see,” Stiles said behind him, barely able to keep the excitement out of his voice when his fingers traced along the little bulge. Derek sighed contentedly, enjoying the gentle, massaging fingers of his mate. By the rate he was going it wouldn’t be long at all.

 


	4. 18 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check-Up Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? Yep, the simple reason being that this chapter is possibly the shortest of all of them and since the Week 30 Chapter is pretty much longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined, I figured I'd post this one with another one.

_18 Weeks – January 13 th 2023_

It was the middle of January and their last Christmas and New Year’s as just Derek and Stiles lay behind them. The pack had just about bankrupted themselves by buying them stuff for the baby for Christmas, enough that Derek had threatened pain and dismemberment if anyone so much as thought about throwing them a baby shower, feeling embarrassed enough already about the large boxes of clothes, toys, and useful gadgets they had already stashed away at Stiles’ house.

To his great displeasure their gadget collection also included a breast-pump, which had _supposedly_ come free with the purchase of two nursing-pillows, but Derek was highly suspicious that Peter had just bought the pump to see his face when he opened the present, since he didn’t see the need for either the pump or the nursing pillow in his flat-chested yet muscular pectoral future.

The Sheriff had asked them not to buy a crib, wanting to build it himself for his first grandchild and Stiles had hugged his father gratefully, both Stilinski men sounding suspiciously congested when they had separated.

New Year’s had been a quiet affair. They had stayed at the pack celebration at Scott and Allison’s house for a couple of hours before sneaking away, claiming Derek was tired and aware that no one was believing them.

Instead of going to the loft they had driven to the Hale house, which was almost completely done except for two rooms on the upper floor and the appliances. It wasn’t too cold, but chilly, a comparatively warm California New Year’s Eve, and they had sat down on a bunch of pillows on the front porch, huddled in blankets and talking quietly. At midnight they had shared a tender kiss, both of their hands pressed against the still tiny bulge of Derek’s midsection.

It was now two weeks later and Derek was definitely glad that Melissa had taken him shopping. He hadn’t ‘popped’ yet – a term that he still found strange and a bit terrifying, because it was giving him mental images of the movie _Alien_ – but there was no denying that his abdomen was steadily getting thicker and there was no way he would have been able to even pull his beloved skinny jeans up around his hips now, which he swore were getting a bit wider, even though Stiles said that he was imagining things.

Deaton had scheduled their 18 weeks scan today, promising that they might be able to tell the gender and Derek still wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know. He knew that the pack was eagerly placing bets on the baby’s gender and he was sure that Stiles was sitting on the edge of his seat in anticipation of finding out, but Derek liked the suspense, imagining the thrill of surprise when Deaton pulled the baby out and announced the gender for the first time. He hoped he would be able to convince Stiles not to find out beforehand, because the more he thought about it, the more he was certain he wanted to keep the sex a surprise.

He was pleased to find that Stiles didn’t put up a fight at all when he voiced his thoughts on their drive to the clinic.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not dying to find out if we’re going to have a little girl or a little boy,” Stiles mused, his hand reaching over to gently cup Derek’s belly, careful not to distract him while he was driving.

“But considering all the nasty surprises we get around here, it would be nice to have a wonderful surprise for a change,” he said, and Derek smiled gratefully, relieved that they wouldn’t have to argue about it.

When they got to the clinic Deaton was already waiting, his eyes shimmering with excitement over adding a new chapter to his quickly growing Male Werewolf Pregnancy Guidebook, despite his attempts to remain his stoic, unfazed usual self. It was still one of Derek’s goals in life to make the former emissary lose composure at least once and the more he advanced in his pregnancy, the more he figured he was getting closer to that goal.

“Is there anything I should know before we begin gentlemen,” Deaton asked once they were inside and Derek shrugged out of his shirt, shivering a little while his body tried to get acclimated to the exam room temperature.

“Stiles said there was a line on my lower belly yesterday,” he offered and Deaton bent down to check, nodding to himself and getting out his camera to take the possibly thousandth picture of Derek’s abdomen.

“That would be the linea nigra,” he said, furiously scribbling away in his little notebook.

“Normally that appears around the middle of a pregnancy, so you are maybe a tiny bit early, but then again you are a man so we can’t go by the usual guidebooks here of course. It will only get darker as you get farther along,” he said and Derek trailed his fingers along the slight discoloration.

“Will it go away after?” he asked and Deaton nodded.

“It should,” he said and Derek sighed in relief. He was relatively sure his body would be able to heal any stretch marks he was about to acquire, but it didn’t hurt to ask if there would be other visible reminders of the pregnancy.

“Do you want me to find out the gender for you?” Deaton continued, gesturing for Derek to hop onto the exam table and getting the ultrasound machine ready.

Derek grunted, trying to get comfortable on the table normally used for animals. “No,” he said after Stiles had balled up his jacket so his head could at least rest comfortably. “We want to be surprised,” he continued and Deaton nodded.

“I figured as much, your mother always wanted to be surprised as well.”

It was something he had never known and Derek swallowed, cursing the pregnancy hormones that were making him more emotional than he normally would have been. Stiles pressed a feathery light kiss on his forehead, clearly wanting to say something, but then Deaton pressed the wand onto Derek’s abdomen and the rushing sound of the child’s heartbeat filled the air, and both men forgot what they were going to say, listening in wonderment.

Their eyes were fixed on the blurry screen when Deaton pointed out the little arms, legs, and the head, taking measurements and declaring the child to be happy and healthy, much to the relief of its parents.

“It’s just as well that you want to be surprised,” Deaton commented as he handed Derek a tissue to wipe the gel off his stomach, pushing buttons on the machine to print out the pictures.

“The little one had its legs closed all throughout my exam, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what it is even if you’d asked.”

Stiles cradled the picture in his hand on the entire drive back and when they got back to the loft he immediately put the CD Deaton had burned for him into his computer, loading up the pictures to the super-secret “The Cutest and Most Beautiful Baby in the Entire Universe” group he had created on Facebook.

Derek had protested when he had sent him the invite, arguing that the nation’s surveillance organizations did not need details about their child’s development or the male body it was developing in and so Stiles had taken to only referring to him as D when he posted updates for the pack, commenting that D could just as easily be Desiree, Dominica, or Daisy.

They had had a very tense conversation during his first trimester when Derek’s phone had alerted him to a new Facebook message while he was resting his forehead on the toilet lid and trying to stop himself from throwing up a third time that morning, the status update simply saying “D throwing up _again_ today.” It had been one of their uglier fights.

Stiles, meanwhile, remained highly enthusiastic about the group and he checked the ultrasound picture on and off throughout the afternoon, noting with delight that it had been liked by almost the entire pack and Derek could barely contain his laughter when Stiles called Jackson to complain after noticing that he had seen the picture – thanks to Facebook’s stalker mode – but not liked it.

When Scott and Allison came over for dinner that evening, Scott patiently listened to Stiles outline all the ways in which the child was taking after him, before grinning and commenting that he had always thought Stiles looked like an oddly shaped blurry monkey and he could definitely see the family resemblance.

An exasperated Derek and a highly amused Allison found out soon after that being in your late twenties and about to become a father was absolutely no reason not to engage in a heated pillow fight with one’s best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Alien-Reference is my own little tribute to the creative genius of HR Giger. 
> 
> Next up: Week 22, during which Derek finds out what 'belly-popping' means and the baby says hello for the first time.


	5. 22 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds out what 'belly popping' means and the baby decides to say 'hello' for the first time. Also some more smut.

_22 Weeks – February 7 th 2023_

Derek’s 22nd week of pregnancy was marked not by one but two major developments, the first occurring at the beginning of the week, when he finally found out what ‘belly-popping’ meant. It was a moment that he had both anticipated and dreaded and Stiles had eagerly looked forward to, commenting that the tiny protrusion was cute, but could still be mistaken for a little too much Nutella.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the fact that you are still small enough that you are physically able to twist me to your sex-crazed pregnancy hormones’ liking,” Stiles had continued, blissfully unaware that said hormones were about to make an ugly appearance, “but I am looking forward to when you finally look like you swallowed a basketball.”

Derek wasn’t really proud that he had thrown a book at his mate when he had made that observation, but Stiles had made it up to him by making him a huge Nutella crepe with bananas that evening, complete with a whole tea mug of liquid Nutella for dipping purposes. He had admittedly felt a little sick after drinking the whole cup, having wanted to make a point but forgetting which one exactly about halfway through, yet satisfied when Stiles didn’t even utter a meep, even though he looked like he desperately wanted to say something.

Derek had also very much planned to deny Stiles sex for at least a week in the hopes of teaching him that he had to be more tactful, but to Stiles’ delight and Derek’s utter mortification his indeed very much sex-crazed hormones had put a stop to that decision not even two hours later.

It wasn’t that Derek was oblivious to the fact that he was consuming more sugar than he had probably had in his entire life and his tightening shirts and waistbands were constantly reminding him that he had recently started to gain weight a little quicker than he probably should have, but the part of him that had relentlessly urged him to keep his abs chiseled was apparently taking a well-deserved vacation somewhere in Hawaii or something, for once not stopping him from indulging in something he actually loved. And besides, Melissa and Deaton had taken to watching him like a hawk, he was certain they would alert him if things were starting to get out of hand.

He had gone to bed with these thoughts in mind one evening, cradling the tiny bulge with his large hand, and woken up the next morning with his stomach sticking out to a point where he suddenly needed both hands to cup his belly. For the first time since their shopping trip he could no longer wear the clothes he had gotten for the “chubby phase” as Melissa had called it affectionately, having to resort to the XL clothing instead.

The shirt was admittedly a little roomy, but Derek knew that would change soon enough. Melissa had commented that maternity clothes would have probably been more comfortable, specifically designed for a pregnant shape, but he was not a woman and just because his biology made it possible for him to be pregnant he was adamant he didn’t have to start wearing dresses and flower patterns.

He could still button the larger pants under his belly, but when he moved around he felt a little uncomfortable with his stomach sticking out over the waistband, feeling the unnecessary urge to hold up his lower belly at all times to take some of the weight off. He made a mental note to call Melissa and have her pick up the largest pair of maternity jeans she could find, complete with these support bands he had found online a while ago.

Although he was refusing to even consider wearing the maternity shirts, despite Stiles’ protests that some of them looked quite stylish and didn’t have flower patterns, he did realize that maternity pants would probably be a better idea than shopping in the big guys’ section and he obviously could not go out and try them on by himself.

He had to edit a long article about fire ants today and the novelty of the new belly he had grown over night soon wore off, as his concentration was focused on the paper. Since no one was around to judge him for it he fixed himself a somewhat unhealthy lunch of mac and cheese with sauerkraut and a chocolate brownie with mustard ‘icing’ for dessert, shaking his head at his belly in exasperation over the latter and wondering if Oreos and pickles would come next. Derek would never admit to anyone that they had turned out to be a deliciously terrific afternoon snack.

When he finally finished the article it was almost six in the evening and he knew Stiles would be home soon. His stomach growled and he suddenly had an idea. Stiles had yet to comment on the whole 1950s housewife vibe Derek had been giving off lately – at least he was sure he had – and now that he actually looked pregnant, he wondered if he could finally coax that reaction out of him.

He pushed himself out of his chair, noting with a frown that his center of balance seemed to be a bit off, and walked up the stairs to their bedroom, opening a drawer of his closet he had avoided like the plague for the past weeks.

There they were, his beloved form-fitting Henleys. He stroked the fabric gingerly, knowing it was ridiculous but still missing his favorite shirts nevertheless, and he finally selected a grey one that he had bought in bulk during a sale a couple of years ago, meaning that he had four of the same style.

It wouldn’t hurt if he stretched one out just a little – or maybe a lot, he thought grudgingly, not having expected how much effort it took to actually squeeze his firm, round belly into the tight shirt. When he was done the fabric was straining, highlighting the way his stomach curved out now and looking so tight that it almost felt like he had painted the shirt on his flesh.

He admired his reflection from the side, noting with amusement that the too tight shirt actually made it seem as if he was trying to smuggle a decent-sized honeydew melon out of a grocery store. It was exactly what he had been hoping for. With a grin Derek kicked off his shoes and made his way back to the kitchen, a quick glance at the clock telling him that Stiles should be home within the next ten minutes.

The floor was a bit cold, although they had had the heat on for the past couple of weeks, but Derek decided he could deal for the moment, busying himself in front of the stove and heating water for spaghetti before he grabbed some tomatoes, bell peppers, garlic, and onions to make the sauce.

He was busy chopping the bell peppers when he heard the key in the lock and when Stiles threw his messenger bag on the couch with a deep sigh, Derek knew he had had a stressful day.

“Busy day at work honey?” he threw over his shoulder, smirking to himself at the pet name that only Melissa was able to use without coming off as condescending and or cheesy.

“The worst!” Stiles exclaimed, swinging himself on one of the high chairs next to their breakfast counter, which they only used if only one of them was eating at home.

“I swear, I have no idea what these people did before I came along, they are hopeless when it comes to advertising!”

Derek grinned to himself. He didn’t usually say it but he was extremely proud of his mate, who had been promoted to head the advertising department of the candy factory he worked for barely a year after being hired.

Stiles’ sometimes annoying capability of coming up with puns and punch lines en masse had resulted in a majorly successful advertising campaign four months after he had started there, and the company’s newest product, Sour Wolf, slogan “Don’t Be Such a Sour Wolf” had become a big success over night.

Derek himself was neither too fond of the sour-sweet wolf-shaped candy, nor the fact that Stiles had used their private catch-phrase to promote sweets, but the campaign, which had been based on a commercial in which a child handed a bag of candy to a grumpy old grandfather in the back of the car with the words “Don’t be such a Sour Wolf”, leading to the grandfather’s mood rapidly improving at the first taste, was essentially paying most of their bills now. Derek’s salary was alright, but Stiles’ employers, who had recognized his talent and were anxious to keep him tied to the company, had given him an end of the year benefit in thanks for coming up with the campaign that could have put the baby through college. They had also promoted him and given him a sizeable raise, and ever since the beginning of the year Stiles’ time at work had increased dramatically.

Under normal circumstances Derek wouldn’t have minded so much, he worked best when he was alone and Stiles was always a distraction, even when he was just sitting next to him without saying a word and he most definitely did not mind the bagfuls of free candy that Stiles brought home every week, courtesy of his new position.

In fact, Derek was getting a lot more done these days, having decided to work up some overtime so he could take a longer break after the baby had been born, but it also meant that he was alone a lot more often than he was used to. Part of the reason he loved being with Stiles was that Stiles had chased the loneliness he had struggled with for years away, and it was a feeling he had not missed at all.

He wasn’t yet desperate enough to go ‘bother’ the pack to keep him company, but he was quickly getting there. However, Derek was resolved not to say anything to Stiles about it. He knew his mate well and Stiles would probably try to cut down his hours, which would hurt his position at the company and in the end they would both be unhappy. Besides, he didn’t want his mate to feel guilty and so he forced himself to push the thoughts from his mind and actually listen to Stiles, who was ranting about his co-workers’ resistance to use correct grammar.

“I’m sorry, you’re upset _honey_ ,” Derek said when Stiles took a deep breath and Stiles snorted, having caught on to the unusual pet name.

“Thank you _Mom_ ,” he responded, tone a mixture of exasperation and amusement and Derek straightened in expectation. It wasn’t quite what he had been waiting for, but they were getting there.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” he asked, finally turning around and holding out a wooden spoon with the sauce in one hand and cupping his other hand under it to prevent the fluid from dripping onto the floor. “Want a taste?” he said innocently, trying to hide his smile when he saw Stiles’ eyes widen, the tired, stressed look in them replaced with joyful excitement.

“Oh my god, Derek!” he breathed out, hopping down from the stool and rushing around the breakfast bar with lightening speed. “We’re having a baby!” he exclaimed and Derek threw his head back and started laughing, swiftly stepping to the side to drop the spoon back into the pot because his hands were shaking too much.

“Really?” he said when he had somewhat recovered, placing his hands on his round stomach and rubbing gently. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Stiles gently swatted his hands away, long fingers examining every curve. He stepped behind Derek and wrapped his arms along his stomach, a soft sound of amazement escaping his mouth when he realized that he would soon no longer be able to make his fingers meet when he hugged Derek from behind.

He stepped back around and tugged at Derek’s shirt, pushing the tight fabric up until it was bunched below Derek’s pecs, resting on the top of the curve. “What are you doing?” Derek asked, amused, and Stiles, who had dropped to his knees, looked up at him, his expression a mixture of love, happiness, and unmistakable _want_.

“I’m getting that taste you promised,” he said, before placing kisses all over the taut skin of Derek’s stomach, gently nuzzling his navel and trailing his hands along Derek’s sides. He still hadn’t noticed the significance of his bare feet, but this reaction was actually better, Derek decided with a contented sigh, leaning back against the counter to support some of his weight.

“If someone would have told me last year …” Stiles murmured, trailing his tongue down the dark line on Derek’s lower belly and pressing kisses all along his waist “that the sight of my pregnant Alpha werewolf mate cooking me dinner in the kitchen would make me hard as a rock, I would have laughed,” he continued, getting up from his knees so he could kiss the top of Derek’s stomach.

Derek held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and suddenly Stiles froze, leaning away from Derek so he could take a good look at his feet.

“You’re barefoot,” he said incredulously, his eyes meeting Derek’s with a look that said he wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or whether he should start laughing hysterically.

“You’re barefoot and pregnant and making me dinner. You’re barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen! I’ve turned you into the quintessential 1950s housewife! Wait … did you do that on purpose?” he exclaimed and Derek’s broad grin was all the answer he needed.

“I love you and your twisted humor so much, you have no idea,” Stiles laughed excitedly, gripping Derek’s face and pulling him in for a kiss, pressing them together as tightly as Derek’s swollen belly would allow it.

“I should keep you in the kitchen, always barefoot, always pregnant,” Stiles whispered against his ear, humor evident in his voice.

“I don’t know about _keeping_ me in the kitchen,” Derek deadpanned, shifting a little to accommodate his growing erection (as well as chastising his hormones for making him horny over a somewhat misogynist, outdated idea), “but you should definitely _take_ me in the kitchen.”

They were pressed close enough together that Derek could feel the tremor that ran through Stiles at his words, as well as the unmistakable growing of the younger man’s erection.

“Oh believe me Derek, I can do that,” Stiles breathed, tugging at Derek’s shirt and pulling it off the rest of the way, delivering quick little licks at Derek’s sensitive nipples before turning him so he could brace his hands against the counter, reaching under his belly and undoing his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

Derek was aware of his surroundings enough to reach over and turn off the burners on the stove, shivering in anticipation when he heard the clink of Stiles’ belt buckle and the rustling of clothes.

His mate was stark naked when he pressed himself against him, choking back a groan when his fingers brushed against Derek’s opening and Derek took two of them easily. “I might have gotten a little horny and fingered myself earlier,” Derek ground out, groaning with pleasure when Stiles pushed against his prostate. “I hope you don’t mind,” he added for good measure, grinning when Stiles’ erect dick twitched against him.

“Not … at … all,” Stiles replied, punctuating every pause with a nip against Derek’s shoulder.

“Do you …” he gasped and Derek reached around the steak knife block to grab the lube they kept hidden in the kitchen, camouflaged in a balsamic vinegar bottle. It was maybe a bit shameless, but very practical.

Stiles coated his fingers before preparing him the rest of the way as quickly as he could, pinching Derek’s ass in protest when he saw his mate reach around his belly to stroke his painfully erect dick.

“Wait for me,” Stiles commanded and Derek sobbed, too aroused to care he was begging.

“Please … can’t wait any longer,” he gasped and Stiles kissed his neck, trailing his tongue down the sensitive skin.

“Brace your hands against the counter babe,” he instructed and Derek complied, feeling the new heaviness of his middle weighing at him when he bent over.

He was trying to assess the distance between his belly and the counter, worried that he would bump against the hard edge when Stiles started thrusting, but at that moment his mate’s hands came around his belly, palms placed flat on his stomach in a way that was both protective and also offered Derek extra support.

He twisted his neck a little to offer Stiles access to his mouth, which the younger man took greedily, unspoken words of gratitude and love exchanged between them as Stiles finally entered him. Derek’s head thumped against Stiles’ shoulder as the younger man began to thrust gently, his hold on Derek’s belly firm and steady, and Derek allowed himself to relax his grip on the countertop just the tiniest bit.

Stiles picked up the pace a little and Derek moaned loudly, hands itching to grab his dick but resisting, and then Stiles changed his angle and the combination of direct prostate stimulation and horny pregnancy arousal made Derek see stars.

He sobbed again, the pressure between his legs getting unbearable and Stiles finally took pity, moving his hands so that one could grasp Derek’s dick and stroke it, the other still firmly pressed against his belly.

It took only three strokes before Derek was coming, again throwing back his head and baring his neck to Stiles on instinct. Stiles bit down gently, just the slightest hint of pressure, before the hand that had been grasping Derek’s cock went back to secure his belly and he continued pounding into him, groaning with the effort, before he came as well.

Derek’s legs were shaking and Stiles pulled out, dropping down onto the floor and leaning his back against the cabinets, beckoning for Derek to come down and join him. Derek followed him, albeit a bit slower, and straddled his lap, his arms going around Stiles’ back as he pressed their sweaty torsos together as much as possible. He rested his cheek on Stiles’ shoulder, letting his breathing return to normal and Stiles pressed his nose into Derek’s damp hair, inhaling his scent.

They stayed like this for a while, with Stiles’ hands resting lightly on Derek’s sides, thumbs stroking up and down the gentle curve. Finally, Stiles began to wiggle a little under him and Derek lifted his head, taking in the slight grimace on his mate’s face.

“Derek, I’m loving this, I really am, but … you’re getting a bit too heavy for me I’m afraid,” he almost whispered the last bit, obviously not sure if Derek was going to react badly to yet another reminder that he was gaining weight.

Derek raised his eyebrows before dropping his entire weight onto Stiles with an evil grin, a satisfied smirk curling around his lips at the oof-sound his mate made. “I’m pregnant, shut up.”

 

==============

 

The next major development happened a couple of days after their kitchen tête-à-tête, right in the middle of Cora’s birthday party. Cora, who was probably the most unromantic Valentine’s Day baby in the history of the cheesy celebration and a philanthropist at heart, had decided to save the pack and their significant others from buying meaningless gifts and trying to come up with a romantic evening by just throwing a party to celebrate _her_ instead.

She had driven home for the weekend from Berkeley where she attended school and, not having seen Derek since New Year’s, had actually squealed when she had stepped into the loft and seen her now six months pregnant brother.

“You are getting to be my big brother in every sense of the word!” she had cooed and hopped onto the couch where Derek had been struggling to get up to greet her, her cheek immediately pressed against his swollen belly. Derek had laughed and stroked her hair fondly, pointedly ignoring the relieved exhale coming from his mate, who mumbled that Derek would have thrown a fit had _he_ said something equally insensitive under his breath.

They had allowed her to celebrate her birthday at the loft, albeit with the condition that the music was to be turned down and there would be no yelling if Derek got tired and went to sleep.

“I’m not an old man,” Derek had grumbled when Stiles had dictated the terms of the party and Stiles had given him a strict look and reminded him that he still took naps almost every day.

“No worries Derek,” Cora had said, reaching over to rub his belly for the tenth time in the past ten minutes, “we are going to make sure you and Little Foot are as happy as can be.”

“Little Foot?” Derek asked with a frown and Stiles chuckled.

“I like that – the baby is a werewolf, so a mythical creature technically, so Little Foot seems fitting. Maybe that’s what we should call it.”

He ducked when Derek threw a pillow in his direction and Cora’s ears perked up in interest. “Speaking of names … have you guys decided on a name yet? This auntie is kind of dying to know, not that I want to pressure you or anything.”

“Not really,” Stiles said, making himself comfortable on the couch next to Derek and placing his hand on the newly developed bump protectively. “The last time I suggested a name Derek didn’t … react so well to my suggestion.”

Derek huffed. “How much longer are you going to go on about that? I was nauseous before you brought it up and I did not _mean_ to throw up all over you,” he said and Cora threw her head back in laughter.

“I swear, that story never gets old,” she finally said, smirking when Derek growled next to her.

“It’s not like I was serious about Renesmee … although …” he winced when Derek elbowed him hard between the ribs.

“No _Twilight_ inspired characters, got it,” Cora laughed. “Huh, I guess that means Bella, Alice, Rosalie, Jacob, Edward, Emmett, Carlisle, and Jasper are out as well?”

Derek shrugged. “That’s fine by me, I don’t like either of those too much.”

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Stiles interrupted and both Hales looked at him in amusement when he grumbled, “Jacob is a very trendy name,” under his breath.

The pack arrived around 6 PM the next day, a little early for a birthday party, but early enough so that they would have at least four to five hours before Derek became too exhausted to play host.

As usual, Isaac was manning the cocktail bar, Boyd and Erica had brought additional food and Lydia had been put in charge of planning party games, since there wasn’t going to be any dancing or wild drinking tonight.

Every time Derek tried to help with anything someone arrived at his side to gently steer him back towards their new arm chair and ottoman, a matching set that Scott had lugged into the loft a couple of weeks ago, proudly declaring he had bought it for ten dollars at a yard sale and that it had the perfect size to fit a grown man, a baby, and a large nursing pillow to relax and bond in for hours at a time.

Derek had raised his eyebrows and pulled up his shirt, his belly still in the ‘just a little bit chubby’ stage back then and had gestured at his flat chest, wondering out loud what exactly Scott thought he was going to nurse the child with.

The True Alpha of Beacon Hills had blushed beet red and Stiles had snickered for days afterwards – but they had kept the chair, which really was quite comfortable.

He finally gave up his efforts to help out, resigning himself to the fact that his well-meaning pack obviously confused ‘looks visibly pregnant’ with ‘could die if he lifts even one knife’, and made himself comfortable, resting his slightly aching feet on the ottoman and placing one palm on the side of his belly, the other holding his Virgin Strawberry Daiquiri.

The entire pack minus Lydia, who was currently keeping Derek company, was fighting each other at the breakfast counter now doubling as dessert table and Lydia made a tsk-sound with her tongue before turning to Derek and asking if he wanted her to go in with raised canons, declaring war if anyone got between her and her mission to bring the pregnant Alpha a slice of birthday cake; taking one for herself just because she could. Derek laughed out loud and nodded. He could definitely go for some birthday cake now.

Lydia had made it halfway to the breakfast counter when he first felt a strange sensation in his belly, so fleeting that he almost missed it. He had read that women usually felt the first movements of their babies between the 20th and 21st week and had actually been waiting for it to happen, not too concerned because the baby’s heartbeat was as strong as ever, but nevertheless a little anxious. He placed both hands on his midsection, holding his breath as he waited for the sensation to happen again.

The second time it was much longer and now that he was paying attention, he could definitely tell that it was the baby moving; he could actually hear it if he paid close enough attention. It was only a gentle fluttering, no real kicks or jabs yet, but it was unmistakable. He gasped loudly, his hands pressed to his belly.

He had about two seconds to contemplate what he must have looked like to his pack, hunched over his belly, his hands pushed into his stomach and gasping loudly, a look of shock on his face, before the six werewolves in the room tensed, dropped their plates, and sprinted towards him, ready to rescue their Alpha, or in Scott’s case reluctant Co-Alpha, from whichever ailment that had befallen him, their hands and noses suddenly all over him, searching for injuries.

Lydia and Allison were still turning around when Stiles came barreling into the pile of overprotective werewolves, almost braining Jackson and face-planting himself on the ottoman in his attempts to get to his mate.

He tried to bat their hands away, moved by their concern, especially Jackson’s, who looked almost frantic, despite his usually disinterested approach to the whole pregnancy topic, but getting more annoyed by the second.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you ok?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Is the baby alright?”

“Are you in pain?”

“Are you going into labor?”

“Are you bleeding?”

Derek threw a helpless glance at Lydia and Allison, who were looking at him with dawning realization in their eyes, not wanting to roar over the hysterical babbling of the seven people trying to crawl onto the ottoman and chair with him to check him over. He finally resorted to a deep Alpha growl, effectively stilling his Betas.

“I’m fine, it’s just …” he gasped again, hand flying to the area where he had felt the third flutter and before the pack could go into panic mode again, Lydia clapped her hands together loudly, her voice excited when she exclaimed, “The baby is moving, isn’t it?”

Again, seven voices were talking at once, but Derek only concentrated on Stiles, love swelling in his heart when the panicked look on his mate’s face gave way to amazed wonderment.

“I don’t think you can feel it from the outside, yet,” he said, reaching forward to take Stiles’ hand and placing it on his belly, “but it’s definitely moving.”

The pack hushed immediately, all of them anxiously focusing on the spot where Stiles’ hand was pushing into Derek’s belly and when the fluttering came for a fourth time, the wolves broke out into happy smiles.

Remembering Stiles’ complaints about being the only one who could not hear his baby’s heartbeat, none of them mentioned that they had picked up on the movement, and Derek gave them a grateful smile, before gently peeling Stiles’ hand away from his stomach.

“Its movements will grow stronger soon, and then you will be able to feel it, too,” he said and Stiles gave him a watery smile, for once too excited to lament his lack of supernatural senses.

“Now if someone would be so kind to get me some cake,” Derek continued, grinning when his Betas scrambled from the chair to fly to the counter, shoving against each other’s shoulders to be the one to bring their Alpha his cake. Even Derek had to admit that it was undeniably cute.

Stiles dropped a kiss on the bump before getting up as well, never having been able to deny himself a piece of Scott’s mother’s famous chocolate cake. Derek closed his eyes briefly and sighed contentedly, rubbing a circle into where his skin felt a little stretched and was surprised to see Jackson still lingering next to the chair when he opened his eyes again.

Jackson looked like he was fighting an internal battle, his hands twitching against his sides and when Derek gave him an expectant look his entire face twitched. “I don’t … I guess I … I want to … May I?” he finally got out, one clenched hand relaxing and reaching out to hover a foot over Derek’s belly.

Derek wanted to let the Beta squirm a bit longer, he really did, but pack bonding with newborns was important, even if the pack member in question looked like it pained him to ask. With a small smile he reached out and grabbed Jackson’s outstretched hand, placing his palm right on the middle of his belly, allowing him to feel the way it curved down and outwards.

Jackson inhaled sharply, looking at Derek briefly, before he gingerly placed his other hand on his Alpha’s belly as well, his face open and unusually soft.

“It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” he breathed in awe and Derek chuckled.

“Most days it does,” he replied and Jackson moved his hands to the side, before leaning in and pushing his cheek against Derek’s shirt. To say the Alpha was startled would have been a bit of an understatement but he let him do it, not knowing what to do with his hands and finally patting the blonde Beta on the head awkwardly.

“I can hear her move!” Jackson whispered barely audibly and Derek refrained from correcting him, wanting to tell him that they didn’t know the sex yet but figuring that it wasn’t all that important right now.

“You’re not getting the wrong kind of ideas over there, are you?” Lydia’s voice rang out from the kitchen and Jackson moved away quickly, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. Derek chuckled.

“We are not having babies until I’m at least 35!” she declared and Jackson coughed, still bright red as a tomato.

“I’m not getting the wrong ideas,” he defended himself, and Stiles snorted, balancing two plates with chocolate cake and two glasses of juice as he wiggled himself into the small space available next to Derek.

“You better not,” he said, absentmindedly holding Derek’s plate out to him, which not only held a massive slice of the cake but also, Derek was delighted to discover, an extra glob of Nutella icing. “One pack baby is definitely enough for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once read a Willy-Wonka themed fan fic where Derek was the heir of a candy company named Sour Wolf and I freely admit that it inspired Stiles' job. If the author reads this by any chance, please take it as the highest form of flattery!
> 
> Next Up: 26 Weeks, featuring a clumsy, explosively hormonal Derek and the most awesome pack any pregnant Alpha could ask for.


	6. 26 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 26, featuring: a clumsy, explosively hormonal Derek who is getting more and more uncomfortable, the best father-in-law ever, and a pack that can't seem to agree on whether Baby Hale is a boy or girl, but would do anything for its father anyhow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're up to page 52 out of 114 - almost half-time guys. Thank you to all you lovely folks who continue to comment on every chapter - it is so gratifying for me as an author to see that people are not losing interest!

_26 Weeks – March 6 th 2023_

It was the beginning of March and Derek felt as if he was getting bigger by the minute. He was grateful that it was still cool enough for him to justify wearing a long coat when he went outside, not looking forward to being confined to the loft all day to hide his pregnancy from the non-supernatural part of the population. Even if he stopped touching his stomach in that unmistakable, loving way, there was just no way anyone could have confused the bump with a beer gut at this point. It was round and firm, gently curving out from under his ribcage and dipping down towards his groin, growing rounder and larger steadily. He looked so undeniably pregnant he could have posed for a magazine.

The more his midsection swelled, the less he felt in control of his own limbs, a sensation that was extremely uncomfortable for him. Most days he didn’t mind the belly at all, it was getting large, but still wasn’t large enough to be a real hindrance to him in his every-day life, but the shifting center of gravity that came with it proved to be quite a challenge.

As a werewolf, he had always prided himself on being able to move firmly and gracefully, and almost tripping over his own feet because his belly pulled him forward was neither firm nor graceful.

“Don’t be such a Stumble Wolf,” Stiles had all but exploded one night when Derek had first managed to bang his hip against the door, having miscalculated the distance between himself and the wooden frame, and then shortly after almost face-planted himself on the coffee-table in a misguided attempt to sit down on the couch during a pack meeting. He had been “saved” by Scott’s lightening fast-reflexes and both Stiles and his best friend had looked like they were about to have a heart attack.

Stiles had been really good about not commenting about the occasional swaying and almost-tripping too much, still making good on his promise to stop coddling him, but the sight of Derek almost falling over his own belly had apparently been too much for the nervous father-to-be.

The rest of the pack minus a still worried looking Scott had exploded in laughter, all of them well aware that both Derek and the baby were fine, despite his newly developed clumsiness, and Derek had grumbled that he didn’t stumble but fell gracefully, internally face-palming himself for essentially quoting Disney characters. If he remembered correctly the actual quote included the word clumsy rather than stumble, but he blamed pregnancy scatterbrains for that blunder.

“One of these days you are going to seriously hurt yourself,” Stiles had prophesized darkly and Derek had shaken his head at the younger man, secretly grateful that his healing powers quickly took care of any bruises administered by outside force and thus masking the true extent of how often he was running into things these days from his worried mate.

Scott had suggested the pack meeting to discuss their relations to a new pack forming in Berkeley and after they had agreed on having Cora meet one of their ‘delegates’ for coffee and interrogations, Scott had moved on to the second item on the agenda. Derek had only partly been surprised to discover that second item was called “So what’s Baby Hale anyhow?”

“It’s not like we don’t respect your decision not to find out, we do, it’s cool, but dude, my mom is dying to start knitting jumpers and she wants to know what colors and styles to use,” Scott said in defense when Derek gave him an exasperated look.

“It’s a girl, no doubt about it,” Jackson said firmly, his tone and expression suggesting that he did not want to hear any opposition on the matter.

“How could it be though?” Erica mused, twirling her blonde locks around her finger in contemplation. “I mean, they are both men, how could they produce anything other than a hyperactive boy child with huge eyebrows?”

“The Hale family has always been female-dominated,” Cora chirped in from Derek’s laptop, having joined the meeting via Skype from her dorm in Berkeley. “Our first-borns have almost always been girls.”

“That is true,” Peter agreed, a smirk on his face as he regarded Derek and Stiles. “Laura was the first and before that Talia was born five years before I was. However, I think you guys are better off having a boy, at least that way my dear nephew won’t spend the poor child’s teenage years stalking and scaring away potential romantic suitors with his evil eyebrows.”

Stiles snorted. “If we have a boy and he comes home one night to tell us that he’s decided to date an older were … uhm … a 90 years older vampire or something you _bet_ I’ll be stalking to make sure he’s ok – no offense Derek,” he added hastily when Derek’s eyebrows rose in indignation. 

“Are you seriously _shipping_ our unborn son with some sparkle vampire right now?” he asked, scorn dripping from his every word.

“I’m assuming you want to be Charlie and I’m supposed to be Rene? I’m warning you though, Rene left Charlie and ran away with another man and that’s exactly what I’m going to do if you say another word,” he warned and Stiles slouched back into the armchair with a sulky pout.

“I think it’s a boy as well,” Allison said, staring at Derek’s stomach as if she wanted to see inside. “No reason, that’s just what I think.”

“So do I,” Scott agreed with his wife, a soft smile playing around his lips as he undoubtedly remembered a younger Stiles sharing his crayons with him.

“If that’s how we’re doing it, I’m going to have to side with Jackson on this one or else he’s going to throw a fit when we get home probably. And besides, imagine all the gorgeous outfits she could wear. Yup, I’m absolutely voting girl,” Lydia said, her eyes sparkling in anticipation of many, many shopping trips.

“Why does it even matter?” Boyd spoke up suddenly, his face earnest as he regarded his pack mates. “The most important thing is a healthy baby, who cares if it’s a boy or a girl?” he continued and Erica smacked a kiss on his cheek.

“Of course it doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl, but it’s _fun_ to speculate! I said boy so you have to say boy as well,” she continued and Boyd shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s a boy,” he said simply and refused to comment further, leaving only Isaac, Derek, and Stiles to voice their predictions.

“I have no clue,” Isaac spoke next, shrugging apologetically when Erica rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, that’s four votes for a boy, three and a half votes for a girl – sorry Boyd, I’m not counting “I don’t think it’s a boy” as a confident vote for a girl – and one neutral,” Stiles calculated, grinning at Derek.

“I think I’m going to join the .5 majority here and say we’re having a little boy as well,” he continued, placing his hands on his mate’s belly as if he was hoping for confirmation from inside.

The entire pack was staring at Derek expectantly, who suddenly felt a bit under pressure. “I … don’t care,” he finally said, shrugging at his grinning mate. “It could be a boy, but it could also be a girl. I really don’t know,” he mused, holding up his hands when his pack started to protest. “We’ll find out soon enough, how about we talk about something else now?” he grumbled, tone leaving no room for discussion.

Stiles did not bring the matter up again until they were lying in bed later that night, for once not cuddling but each lying on their own side, deep in thought.

“Are you upset with me Derek?” he finally asked, his voice a little unsure.

“Why would I be?” Derek replied, genuinely confused as to what his mate was thinking.

“Well, I thought maybe you were upset because I said we’re going to have a boy?” Stiles continued and Derek sighed.

“Yes, Stiles, I am very upset. There is literally nothing worse that you could have said to me than “Derek, I think our baby is a boy.” I’m surprised you didn’t hear the knives I was sharpening behind my back to punish you for the insolence,” he deadpanned and Stiles gently nudged his elbow.

“Don’t be such a Sarcasm Wolf, that’s my territory. It’s just, I kind of get the feeling that you want a little girl, you know? You have been oddly evasive on the topic of boy names lately,” Stiles said carefully and Derek laughed quietly.

“I have been oddly evasive on the topic of girl names as well, but that’s because I have yet to hear a name that was not in some way inspired by _Twilight_ ,” he responded and Stiles rolled on his side so he was facing Derek.

“Seriously though, would you prefer a little girl?” he asked him and Derek shook his head.

“No,” he said honestly, regarding Stiles with a serious expression. “I want to have a happy, healthy baby. Whether that baby is a beautiful little girl with my eyes and your wit or a boy with your mischievous grin and my temper does not matter to me at all. I think we would be good parents to either,” he mused and Stiles smiled hesitantly.

“If we have a boy I could do all the things with him that my father did with me, you know, take him fishing, play with trains, that sort of thing,” Stiles imagined out loud and Derek shook his head.

“Little girls sometimes like trains and fishing as well, just like there are boys who organize tea parties” he chastised his mate gently and Stiles laughed.

“That’s right, I remember that! _That_ ’s why you are secretly hoping for a girl, you’re still waiting to be invited to a pink, sparkly tea party – oh don’t give me that look, you know I’m joking,” he chuckled when Derek growled beside him.

“Just imagine though, us with a little girl? Do you even know how to braid hair?” Stiles wondered with a frown and Derek sighed.

“Maybe she will want to have short hair,” he objected and Stiles shook his head.

“Nah, she’ll have cute little pigtails and every time a bully tries to pull them at the playground she’ll just growl, because she’ll be kick-ass. Only the pigtails won’t be cute, they’ll look sloppy, because I really don’t know how to braid hair,” he lamented and Derek sighed again.

“I can do French braids,” he admitted reluctantly and Stiles’ eyes widened comically.

“What?” he asked and Derek blushed.

“You keep forgetting how much younger Cora is than me. Someone had to do it while Laura was busy listening to some strange boy band in her room and my mom was chewing out Peter over something,” he grumbled and Stiles kissed his shoulder fondly.

“Alright then, our potential daughter will never have bad hair days, check.” He was quiet for a moment and Derek had almost fallen asleep when his mate suddenly gasped next to him.

“But Derek! How are we going to explain … things to her?”

“Things?” Derek asked groggily, a bit grumpy because Stiles was keeping him awake.

“Yes, things! You know, girl-things. Stuff that only applies to girls. You know. Those things. _Scary_ things!” Stiles continued, his voice rising in slight panic.

“Are you sure you are 28 years old? I hope you are, because I’m not sure at all right now, I think you’re probably 12,” Derek groaned, finally catching on to what Stiles was trying to say.

“Come on Derek,” Stiles whined, flailing his arms dramatically. “This is scary! Men don’t know about this, especially if they’ve kind of never properly dated a girl! We’ll traumatize her at a really delicate time of the month and she’ll _never_ talk to us again afterwards,” Stiles moaned, apparently visualizing the situation already.

“Firstly,” Derek began, regrettably wide awake now. “If she has any biological questions that require first-hand knowledge she has a doting grandma in the _medical_ profession and at least four aunts, one of which loves to over-share, so I really don’t think this is a problem. Secondly, I hereby promise that if we have a daughter, _I’m_ going to be the one to have that talk with her – you once thought I menstruated out of my penis, you’d be insane if you believed I’d actually let _you_ discuss this with her,” Derek finished, closing his eyes to signal the discussion was over and ignoring Stiles’ “But I was drunk, that doesn’t count!” defense.

Nevertheless, the human breathed a sigh of relief. “Ok, if you promise to talk to her about the scary things, then I’d be ok with having a daughter I think,” he said, snuggling into Derek’s side and gently patting his stomach.

Derek couldn’t help shaking his head in exasperation, his eyes still firmly shut.

“Really Stiles, if you are freaking out about telling her about menstruation already, what are you going to do when we have to have _the talk_ with her,” he wondered, a sadistic little part of him delighting in the way Stiles froze against him.

“The what?!” he squeaked, scrambling up so he was sitting next to Derek.

“The _talk_. You know? The birds and the bees? That talk your father should have had with you before you freaked out about your imaginary pregnancy four years ago?” Derek replied helpfully, opening his eyes to see the true extent of Stiles’ horror. It was, he decided, an incredibly amusing sight.

“Oh _god_!” Stiles breathed, placing one hand over Derek’s navel and resting his forehead on his chest for good measure. “Listen to me baby, please don’t be a girl, please, please, please don’t be a girl. With my luck, you’re going to be a female version of your daddy, which means you’ll be drop-dead gorgeous and I won’t sleep _at all_ through your teenage years. And I’ll have to beg my father to teach me how to shoot, you know, just in case, and then I’ll probably shoot like a cow on accident or something because I can’t aim for shit and then I’ll go to prison for innocent-cow-slaughter and just please don’t be a girl,” he pleaded and Derek laughed.

He couldn’t help it; it was just too adorable.

“Could you be a bigger cliché-dad if you tried?” he finally asked and Stiles gave him an affronted look.

“Says the man who constantly glows like Edward Cullen on a sunny day,” he huffed in reply, his eyes widening when Derek’s laughter turned into a growl.

“Ooops.”

=================

 

A couple of days after that conversation Derek had successfully forced Stiles to watch three menstruation documentaries on the Discovery Cannel with him and probably traumatized his mate for life. They had also watched a birth documentary while they were at it and afterwards _Derek_ himself had felt traumatized for life. Well, he would have been traumatized, had he not been occupied with being so uncomfortable all the time. He had hoped that his werewolf healing would also spare him some of the more unpleasant parts of advanced pregnancy, not too hopeful, considering the time he had spent throwing up in his first trimester, but a little bit hopeful nevertheless. His hopes had been truly, completely, and utterly dashed.

Sometimes it was back pain, sometimes it was groin pain, sometimes it was thigh pain and sometimes –and those were the really scary times, the times when he barely dared to move, ears constantly trained towards the heartbeat of the baby – it was abdominal pain.

Deaton and Melissa had explained to him that it was normal and usually Derek was able to take it all in stride, but on the days when all of the aforementioned body parts hurt at once, accompanied by heartburn, a condition he had never experienced in his life, he tended to be in a very sour mood. Stiles, not used to his werewolf actually being in pain and therefore slightly underestimating the situation, had told him “not to be such a Sour Wolf,” exactly one time and the fight that had followed had been … loud.

In addition to the near-constant aches and pains his magical uterus – he just couldn’t refer to it without using the word magic, despite the eye rolls he got from Deaton about it – was getting larger to accommodate the growing child and had begun to push up against his lungs, making him short of breath and turning the ascension of the stairs in the loft into a rather unpleasant experience.

Most days he took his naps on the couch or the armchair in the living room area, glad to rest his swollen ankles and feet whenever he could. Gone were the days when he had been able to chase Stiles up the stairs towards the bedroom, or let himself be dragged by his overeager mate and Derek had actually started to wonder whether they should relocate the bed to the living area when he entered his third trimester in less than a month. He didn’t expect improvements anytime soon.

On the plus side, however, the baby was moving more now, sometimes Derek could even see the indents of a tiny fist or foot pushing against his skin from the inside. Stiles was also able to feel the baby’s movement now, and the look on his face when he had felt it for the first time was something Derek didn’t think he could ever forget.

It had happened merely by coincidence, they had been sitting in front of the television, watching some stupid show without really paying attention. Stiles had leaned over to place a goodnight kiss on the bump, ready to call it a night since he had to get up at 5 AM the next morning, when the baby had nudged a foot against his lips in return.

Derek had been shirtless and they had actually seen the outline of the foot before it had disappeared again. Needless to say, Stiles had stayed up for quite some time afterwards after all, trying to coax the child into saying hello again. At one point he had gotten up from the couch and retrieved a tiny pair of baby booties that Melissa had knitted the other day, placing them on Derek’s stomach to see if the baby could kick them off and claiming that he had seen the most adorable YouTube videos on the subject.

Their child, as it turned out, wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and the resulting kick had proven two things to Derek – one, there could almost be no doubt that the baby was a werewolf, as evidenced by the fact that the booties had not only bounced off his belly but shot off from it with such force that they had hit Stiles’ face. Two, it wasn’t comfortable, but definitely possible to laugh hysterically while painfully grunting at the same time.   

Tonight, however, Derek was alone, without anyone to appreciate the baby’s movements or anything else exciting that might happen. Stiles had left for a three-day conference that morning, reluctantly, and very worried that something could happen while he was gone, so Derek had almost had to shove him out the door.

Thanks to his Sour Wolf-fame, Stiles had been invited as a keynote speaker and therefore the conference was very important for his mate’s career and reputation, making it impossible for him to reject the invitation. Derek had reckoned that as a 33-year old Alpha werewolf he would be able to deal with being left alone for three days.

Sadly, he wasn’t dealing well at all.

He hadn’t felt like cooking and had ordered some take-out from their favorite Thai place, only to rush for the bathroom to throw up almost as soon as he had opened the lid of the box. He wasn’t sure which ingredient to put on the black-list, hadn’t really had to deal with nausea and vomiting in months, but something in the dish had triggered his gag reflexes quite successfully.

He had pinched his nose shut when he had ventured back into the living room, taking the offending dish and holding it at arm’s length, before walking outside and throwing it over the balcony, feeling only a little bit guilty about his littering. He would maybe pick it up in the morning. Afterwards he had opened all the windows and it had taken almost 20 minutes until he felt comfortable being in the room again.

When the nausea had finally subsided, he had suddenly felt ravenous and gone for the large family-sized glass of Nutella that Stiles had bought the day before, resting the cool glass on his belly and eating the sugary concoction with a spoon. He had been watching some movie about penguins, enraptured by the story almost against his will, and thus had not realized that he had emptied almost the entire glass.

Derek could eat a lot, but that much sugar after throwing up did not turn out to be one of the smartest things he had ever done, as evidenced by the twinges of pain that suddenly shot through his stomach and the return of the nausea.

He sat the glass down with a slight groan, wincing when he tried to massage the top of his belly to make it feel better. He hadn’t had to deal with the pain of overeating ever since he had been a child and when the baby decided to use his organs for target practice, delivering one well-placed little kick upwards, he was sent scrambling to the toilet for the second time that evening, tears of pain pooling in his eyes as he retched over the bowl.

When he finally made it back to the couch he decided to abandon the idea of eating altogether, curling up around the firm ball sitting on his midsection as best as he could, feeling truly and utterly miserable. He wasn’t feeling well, he missed Stiles, and this three-day vacation from his mate wasn’t working out at all.

Figuring that he was already sad enough as it was, Derek decided to make his third stupid decision of the evening, after ordering take-out and making himself sick with a family-sized glass of Nutella. He turned on the television at random and ended up watching _Bambi_.

Derek hadn’t really cried at all throughout the pregnancy, despite Stiles’ predictions that he would turn from a grumpy Sour Wolf into a sobbing hormonal ball. By the time he was finished with _Bambi_ , however, Derek felt he qualified for all three defining characteristics. He was sobbing hysterically, he was hormonal as heck, and his belly felt large and heavy, like a bowling ball.

It really was no wonder Stiles had jumped at the chance to get away from him for three days; surely he was relieved that he didn’t have to sleep next to his swollen excuse of a werewolf for a change. Everything about him was swollen, his feet, his ankles, his fingers, his belly, obviously, even his face had started to become puffy recently. He should consider himself lucky if Stiles returned at all.

Maybe he would find someone at that conference, someone with rock-hard abs and a chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones, qualities that Stiles had always seemed to very much appreciate about Derek.

He sobbed harder, hugging himself and wishing the arms around him were his mom’s. Derek had cried so hard he had been shaking when Bambi’s mother had died in the movie and the tears really hadn’t stopped since. Just like Bambi, Derek suddenly missed him mom terribly, yearning for her advice and just wanting her tell him it would be ok.

Instead, here he was, almost grotesquely swollen with his own child and about to become a father – or mother, or childbearing Alpha, or whatever – and what the hell had he been thinking anyways? Stiles often behaved like he was a child himself and Derek was very much aware that the pack sometimes called him Fail Wolf behind his back – and after that family sized glass of Nutella on an already upset stomach Derek could not even fault them for calling him that. In short, they were in no way equipped to raise a baby. The child would end up hating them.

His eyes were beginning to hurt from all the crying, he was getting tears and snot all over his shirt – too tight, because he was too fat – and when the phone rang he almost didn’t want to answer it at all. It was bound to be Stiles, telling him that he had found someone else and that he was leaving him, but the caller ID said it was the Sheriff, and so Derek picked up the phone, still sobbing and hiccupping.

Years later John Stilinski would still tell the story of how his seven months pregnant son-in-law – it was a very carefully selected circle of listeners – had first almost scared him into a heart attack and then into prematurely balding when he had picked up the phone sounding like he had lost the baby.

After he had gotten Derek to calm down enough so he could tell him that the baby was alright but he was not – that he was fat, ugly, in pain, about to be left by his mate, destined to be a failure as a parent, and wanting his mommy – Sheriff Stilinski, who had called Derek to check up on him, as mandated by Stiles, who knew that he was not going to have much time at the first evening of the conference, had decided to take action.

He had grabbed his car-keys, stormed out of his office declaring he was taking the rest of the night off due to a personal emergency, jumped into his police cruiser, and broken every speed limit in his haste to get to the loft, using the police signal to move through traffic quicker because he was the Sheriff and he damn well could.

Ten minutes after he had hung up the phone Stiles’ dad burst into the loft, using the spare key Stiles had given to him when he had moved in with Derek for good. Derek was still curled up on the couch, his entire frame shaking with violent sobs and the Sheriff marched over to the couch with determination, pulling his son-in-law into a firm hug.

Claudia had been the happiest pregnant person on the planet, except for two memorable nights on which she had turned into a hormonal wreck and so John knew what he was up against, figuring it was best to wait and just stroke Derek’s back until he was able to get himself back under control. When the sobbing had been reduced to occasional sniffling, John patted Derek’s back gently, helping him sit upright so he could face him.

“I know you know all the things I am about to say, but I think you need to hear them, so I’m just going to say them anyways,” he began, placing a hand on Derek’s knee encouragingly.

“You are not fat, you are pregnant, seven months pregnant in fact with a healthy child that is growing just as it should. You are not ugly, or else my son would be able to actually shut up about how gorgeous you are and how you are glowing and believe me, he never does, it’s starting to make everyone who is not sleeping with you really uncomfortable. My son loves you so much he would probably get a stupid idea like cutting off his legs if that meant he would never be physically able to leave you, let alone leave you emotionally. The two of you love each other so much and you already love this baby so much, it won’t matter if you make mistakes every now and then, with so much love to go around you will never be a parenting failure. As for your mom …” here the Sheriff paused, patting Derek’s knee gently and sighing sadly.

“I know it hurts that she’s not here, I know that Stiles is missing his mother terribly as well, especially right now, when they should be here to rightfully annoy you as excited grandmothers to be and drowning you in unsolicited advice, but trust me Derek, your mom is very proud of you and believe me, Stiles’ mother would have loved you unconditionally.” He paused for a second to gather himself, sniffling once before his features became more serious.

“Now, you said you were in pain? Where does it hurt and can I do anything?”

Derek gave his father-in-law a shaky smile, feeling a lot better and already a little embarrassed about his outburst. He would never be able to live this down, so the humiliation might as well continue. “I can’t really ask you to do that,” he muttered under his breath and the Sheriff sighed.

“I can call Melissa if you want to and feel too uncomfortable with me, but my wife used to tell me I excel at massaging swollen feet, if it’s something along those lines.” Derek blushed.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said, looking down at his belly before clearing his throat. “My feet are fine for now, it’s just that my belly is just really stretched and tight all the time now and with all that throwing up I did this evening the entire area is just tense all over. Stiles sometimes rubs eucalypt lotion into my skin and it really helps …” he trailed off, not even wanting to look his father-in-law in the eye. He was surprised when the Sheriff rolled up his sleeves and clapped his hands together.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier, I mean, every time I see all of you together, your entire pack has their noses pushed against you in a way that’s borderline inappropriate, apparently in an attempt to bond with the baby, if I understand my son correctly. I know I’m not technically part of your pack, but I _am_ the grandfather, so I guess a bit of grandfather-grandbaby bonding couldn’t hurt, could it, especially if I don’t have to sniff your privates?” he said, getting up and looking for the lotion.

“No sniffing of my privates, I promise. The lotion’s in the bathroom,” Derek said, relieved when he the Sheriff strode away to get it, not really feeling energetic enough to get up yet.

“You are pack, you know,” Derek said softly when John returned, waving the lotion like a man with a mission. “Just like Melissa,” he added, and the lines around the Sheriff’s eyes crinkled when he smiled brightly.

“I’ll keep that in mind son,” he said, swallowing audibly, before clapping his hands together and proclaiming, “Alright then,” in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Derek shifted uncomfortably. They normally did this with Derek sitting between Stiles’ spread legs, resting his back against his mate’s chest while Stiles rubbed circles into Derek’s skin from behind, but that position felt a bit too intimate to try with his mate’s father.

“We could maybe pull the coffee table a little closer and you can easily reach me while sitting on it,” he suggested and John nodded, indicating for Derek to take off his shirt as he squirted a dollop of lotion into his hands. It suddenly occurred to Derek that Stiles’ father had never touched the bump before, always keeping a polite distance, and suddenly he very much hoped the baby would say hello.

“It’s incredible,” John breathed when he carefully placed both palms on Derek’s stomach, just resting them there for a second and taking in the sensation before he began to massage the lotion into Derek’s skin in soothing motions.

“I know you’re a man, but I swear this feels just like Claudia did when she was carrying Stiles … well … with a little more hair maybe,” he corrected himself and Derek laughed, his cheeks still a little flushed.

“Yes well, I’m not a woman,” he offered and John nodded.

“That you aren’t and every now and then my brain still hurts when I think about _that_ , but then I think about the little munchkin in here and I figure what the hell, who cares where she’s going to come out of.”

The baby chose that exact moment to thump its head against John’s open palm and the Sheriff froze, before laughing in excitement.

“That was her, wasn’t it?” he exclaimed, gently pushing down against Derek’s belly, careful not to make him sick again.

“Hello beautiful! I’m your grandpa! We haven’t really talked yet, but I promise you, I’m going to spoil you rotten and allow you all the things your mean Daddies will forbid you from doing. I’m going to be your favorite person in the universe,” he all but cooed at Derek’s belly and the werewolf smiled in amusement, still not used to the sight of grown men – and women – being reduced to puddles of goo when faced with his swollen midsection.

The baby kicked again and Derek pressed his hand against his side, marveling at the fact that it was getting stronger, those kicks so much more pronounced than the fluttering he had felt only a month ago.

“So you are on Team Girl as well, I take it,” he mused, a teary-eyed smile on his face when the baby thumped against his palm.

“She seems to agree with me Daddy,” the Sheriff said wonderingly and Derek shrugged.

“Jackson has been saying that it’s a girl for weeks,” he remarked and John snorted.

“That boy knows even more about hair products than you son, if _he’s_ saying it and that baby comes out a boy I’m going to put ketchup on my Sherriff’s hat and eat it,” he declared and Derek chuckled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said and John resumed the massage, smiling softly when he said, “I really don’t think you will.”

 

=============

 

After Derek had finally fallen asleep that night, John Stilinski sent out a mass text message to the pack, minus his son at his conference in Seattle, and by the time Derek woke up the next morning, Isaac was already making him hot chocolate and croissants.

Five minutes after he had left for work Erica had arrived with a DVD and the hottest new Beacon Hills gossip and when it was time to start her shift at the coffee shop she worked at, Boyd replaced her, his silent presence enough to put Derek at ease as he worked on an editing job while Boyd quietly read on the sofa.

When it was time for dinner, Melissa knocked at his door with a homemade mac and cheese casserole and her knitting books and she presented Derek with knitting patterns and adorable jumper suggestions until his eye-lids were falling shut and she sent him off to bed.

The third day of Stiles’ absence began with Lydia bustling into the loft on her way to work, bringing with her a mouth-watering breakfast burrito from Derek’s favorite Mexican restaurant and by the time she left Scott was already knocking on the door, having traded his early shift with Deaton’s late shift so he could hang out with Derek before going out to save wounded animals.

They talked about relations with other packs mostly and by the time Allison arrived with a new glass of Nutella and two spoons, Derek felt like crying again, only this time they would have been happy tears, his heart swelling with love at his pack’s attempts to make sure he was alright and not alone.

After his heart-to-heart with Allison, who had confided in him how glad she was that Stiles and Derek were taking the baby-making pressure off of her and Scott, it was almost time for dinner and Jackson marched in with filthy expensive Kobe filet steaks.

When they had finished eating, Jackson quietly sat on the couch next to him, hands fidgeting and a disgruntled expression on his face as they watched an episode of America’s Next Top Model – a show Derek not so secretly enjoyed – and Derek finally had enough, reaching out to plant Jackson’s hand on his belly, knowing that the Beta would have swallowed his tongue before he would have asked to say hi to the baby.

It still amazed Derek to no end that Jackson almost seemed to melt right in front of him whenever he got close to his belly, tactfully looking away at the wistful look in the younger man’s eyes.

“Hey Princess,” he whispered while rubbing a small circle into Derek’s taut skin automatically and Derek raised his eyebrows, his eyes drifting towards the bottle of lotion that John had left on the coffee table two nights ago.

He wondered if it would be too awkward to ask his Beta to help him out with the soreness a little, but he needn’t have worried; Jackson literally jumped at the chance. He was still massaging Derek’s belly an hour later, having almost lulled his Alpha to sleep when the door to the loft opened again and Stiles dragged his carry-on suitcase through the door, pausing at the sight in front of him.

Jackson gave him an annoyed glare that Stiles obviously couldn’t interpret, resolutely massaging away, and Derek waved his hand lazily, part of him wanting to kiss his mate senseless and the other marveling at Jackson’s scandalous blunder in making his career choice. Instead of studying economics and wanting to become some big-shot CEO one day, the Beta should have gone into massage therapy as far as Derek and the baby were concerned.

Stiles’ eyebrows were quickly rising up to his hairline and Derek coughed, getting Jackson’s attention and nodding at him with a grateful smile. Jackson was obviously reluctant to remove his hands from Derek’s belly but he did it anyway, throwing one last accusatory glare at Stiles on his way out.

Derek had decreed that Stiles would never find out about the havoc his absence had wrecked on Derek’s emotions and hormones and everyone had agreed. Some had agreed more reluctantly than others, but Derek was determined, not wanting his mate to feel guilty, which would have been inevitable.

“Should I be worried, is Jackson going to be the baby’s new daddy?” Stiles asked as he crawled on the couch next to Derek and pulled his mate into a long kiss, hand automatically dropping to the bump to say hello. The baby kicked and Derek smiled against Stiles’ lips.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: 30 Weeks, featuring Stiles and Scott playing old wives, an over-sharing Derek, a photo session, some name discussions and a supernaturally natural development that finally gets Deaton to lose his cool.


	7. 30 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles employ the help of Old Wives' Tales to settle the gender-debate, Derek can't stop himself from oversharing and soon after experiences an unexpected body modification that finally makes Deaton lose his cool.

_30 Weeks – April 8 th 2023_

In the years to come Derek would always cherish the fond memories of the day he had woken up to find his belly had finally popped, the excitement he had felt as he had run his hands over the unmistakable outward sign that their baby was growing inside of him, and of course the mind-blowing sex they had had in the kitchen that evening.

His memories of the day he was no longer able to get into his beloved Camaro were not necessarily as fond, but he grudgingly admitted in retrospect that it must have been pretty hilarious for an innocent bystander when he had first wedged himself between the steering wheel and the back of the seat, huffing and puffing and red-faced with the exertion, and then found that there was no way he would have been able to drive comfortably.

Stiles, who had told him that it would be a stupid idea, had been holding back his laughter, almost breaking down when Derek had realized he would need help in getting out of the low, tight space. It had been embarrassing, but it had also meant that the baby was growing nicely, even though Derek had begun to wonder how much larger his belly was supposed to get at this point.

He still didn’t really look pregnant at all from behind, the reason for that being that apart from the slight widening of his hips – he was _so_ not imagining it, despite what Stiles claimed – he was carrying all the weight in the front, his belly sticking out way past his waistband at this point.

It made him seem even larger than he probably was, but at least his butt still looked nice, which, for absurdly weird and vain reasons, made him feel slightly better about his changing shape.

The exact form of his shape had prompted Stiles and Scott to spend an entire evening looking up pictures of pregnant celebrities who had already given birth online and comparing their bellies to Derek’s, trying to guess if he was going to have a boy or a girl.

As far as the old wives’ tales went, the baby was apparently gender-confused, since the fact that he had gained almost all the weight in his midsection indicated a boy but the relatively high position of his belly suggested a girl.

Derek had sighed in resignation when Stiles, not impressed with the inconclusive result of their extensive Google picture search, had pulled up a website that featured even more old wives’ tales, his willingness to be surprised seemingly forgotten as he and Scott had browsed through the suggestions.

The fact that the dark line running up from his pubic area stopped below his belly button seemed to be a sign for a girl, Scott had read out from his smart phone while Derek was busy batting Stiles’ hands away from his shirt on instinct, not necessarily uncomfortable with exposing his vulnerable belly to another Alpha in the room like that, but not too thrilled about it either, despite the fact that it was puppy-eyed Scott, who would have probably jumped off a cliff before causing any harm to his best friend’s baby.

The quick heartbeat of the baby also indicated a girl although, as Derek had pointed out with an exasperated growl, the baby was most likely a werewolf, which made that point pretty moot as a decisive factor.

He had tried really, really hard to be nice and understanding when Stiles had all but climbed on his lap to run his fingers through his hair, declaring it to be gorgeous and glossy, rather than thin and dull, which was supposed to mean they were having a boy.

“You are also extremely hot and gorgeous all around, which apparently means a boy as well,” he had continued.

“That doesn’t even make sense and is extremely offensive if you think about it,” Derek had grumbled, getting more annoyed by the second when Scott had dutifully reported that that particular old wives’ tale stemmed from the idea that girls stole the mother’s beauty.

“Your feet are also super cold these days, which indicates a boy and is super uncomfortable for me during the night, while we’re at it … _and_ you sleep on your left usually,” Stiles had commented, while Scott had added that women who were expecting boys were supposed to get particularly hairy legs, nodding towards the hairy, slightly swollen calves poking out below Derek’s shorts.

“I have _always_ slept on my left,” Derek had argued, rolling his eyes at Scott for his observation. “And, in case it has escaped your notice _Doctor_ McCall, oh expert of all animals, I’m a man _and_ a werewolf, I’m supposed to be hairy, this does not prove anything.”

“I have to admit,” Stiles had mused, pressing a soft kiss to the bump and then to Derek’s temple to placate his annoyed mate, “the fact that you essentially spent three months either vomiting or so nauseous that you looked like you were _about_ to vomit seems to be a pretty stereotypical indicator for a little girl.”

“Also don’t forget that super-sexist nursery rhyme,” Scott had smiled, reading the little poem out from his phone. “What are little boys made of? What are little boys made of? Snips and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, that's what little boys are made of. What are little girls made of? What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of.“

He had grinned apologetically at Derek. “Don’t tell Allison, but based on this information I’m switching over to Team Girl. With your Nutella intake there is _no way_ that baby is a boy.”

“In conclusion,” Derek had ended the conversation; “based on these old wives’ tales I’m carrying a baby that is six parts boy, five parts girl, and probably one part hazelnut. Well, at least that makes finding a name easier, because that way we can just call it Nutella after all and be done with it.”

“I’m sure there is some child, somewhere, who is actually named Nutella,” Stiles had thought out loud and Derek had stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head.

“Yes, I’m sure there are parents out there who are that wicked,” he had said, enunciating each word carefully and Stiles had wisely shut up.

They had still not made much progress with finding a name for their child and the pack had begun to weigh in with their own suggestions, leading Derek to hope that some of them never decided to procreate.

So far they had ruled out city names, food-inspired names, and names that had anything to do with seasons. They had also banned professions – “Pilot Inspector, _really_?” Derek had sputtered, spitting his orange juice all over Stiles on accident when he had read out a list of celebrity baby names – and made-up names, including too creative spellings.

They were both in agreement that they wanted to honor Stiles’ father somehow if it was a boy, but while Derek favored a simple name like Jonathan, which could have easily been shortened to John, Stiles still claimed that _Twilight_ was not a reason to hate the name Jacob forever.

“Besides, it’s _the_ quintessential werewolf name these days! All over America women are still naming their boys Jacob imagining they will grow up to look as hot as Taylor Lautner, but ours would actually _be_ a werewolf and how cool would that be! Also, wouldn’t it be lovely to call him Jacob John, so we could call him JJ for short? I promise, Derek, it would be extremely hip and modern,” he had argued again and again, ignoring Derek’s complaints that he was not about to name his son after a baby-imprinting were-pervert.

It wasn’t that Derek doubted that Stiles would be an amazing father, but he did occasionally wonder how his popular culture-obsessed mate could wax poetically about their baby all day and _still_ not find anything creepy about grown men imprinting on tiny, defenseless infants.

==============

 

At the beginning of Derek’s 30th week of pregnancy, Stiles came home from work early one afternoon; his cheeks glowing with barely controlled excitement.

“Guess what Derek!” he all but yelled when he stumbled into the loft, making Derek wince; his heightened senses even more sensitive than normally.

“You look like I don’t even want to guess,” he grumbled in response, massaging his temples in the hopes of getting his headache under control. His feet had been sore all day, his back was hurting, and on top of that the Indian take-out he had suddenly craved for lunch had left him with a serious case of heartburn that he had been trying to unsuccessfully soothe with anti-acids all afternoon, leaving him extremely cranky and also very upset at his supposed self-healing powers.

“So I talked to my co-worker today and he was showing me all these pictures he and his wife took throughout her pregnancy and it occurred to me that there are hardly any real pictures of you being all gorgeous and pregnant. So I called Lydia and she agrees that it would be a _wonderful_ idea to have a little maternity photo session, you know, to commemorate the pregnancy.”

Stiles beamed at his tired mate as if was presenting him with the Holy Grail, his excitement dimming slightly when he finally took in the pained expression on Derek’s face and the way he was massaging his temple with one hand and rubbing the area of his breastbone and the top of his belly with the other.

“Are you alright babe?” he asked, reaching out his hands to take over the belly massage and frowning when Derek flinched away from him, clearly not in the mood to be touched.

“No, _babe_ , I’m not alright. My head is trying to split itself in two, my back is killing me, my feet, which I can no longer see thanks to your virility and _breeder prowess_ , are throbbing as if I had spent the entire day running over lava and because all of that isn’t already amazing enough, I have been burping up regurgitated Indian curry for literally four hours and it _burns_ , so _no,_ I’m not alright.”

Stiles winced in sympathy, silently cursing the fact that he had – quite possibly – managed to suggest the idea of maternity pictures to his pregnant lover at the single worst time he could have done so. Before he had a chance to offer his uncomfortable mate words of comfort, or even retract the suggestion, Derek already continued, apparently having waited for hours to finally be able to vent off his frustrations.

“On top of all that, I haven’t been able to go to the bathroom in four days – _four_ days, Stiles, can you imagine how frustrating that is? Having to pee literally every other hour and then sitting there, twiddling my thumbs in the hopes that finally this is it? Only to face the disappointment and the fact that gravity is an evil bitch, making it almost impossible to get _off_ the toilet once you’ve been perched on it for what seems like hours? Do you know what happens to people who sit on the toilet for half an hour at a time straining to go to the bathroom? Hemorrhoids, that’s what! You would think my awesome werewolf healing powers would take care of that but _noooooo,_ we can’t have that; it would be too easy. I had to ask _Melissa_ why I was suddenly bleeding down there – because you know, when you’re 30 weeks pregnant you really don’t want to suddenly bleed out of _anywhere_ – and Deaton was busy saving some kid’s pet hermit crab, so that was just a really mortifying conversation.”

He shot Stiles an angry glare. “You know what I can do about these hemorrhoids? Literally nothing, because my body will just keep creating them until this baby is out of me and my healing powers go back to normal, which they aren’t currently, because _apparently_ they consider pregnancy pains a natural thing and not worthy of curing. So if I broke my arm it would heal, but pregnancy-induced heartburn and hemorrhoids are just part of the fucking Circle of Life from that Disney movie! Ha! I bet that one wouldn’t _still_ be so popular if they had been honest and sung about bleeding hemorrhoids and acid reflux from hell rather than some hakuna matata shit! Deaton was _so_ excited when he wrote that down into his tiny little notebook. I _hate_ that book, it’s so quaint and tiny – it’s probably a representation of his junk. He was so happy I was providing him with this _invaluable_ research data that I wanted to rip his throat out – with my teeth!”

Here Derek paused, taking a deep breath and pressing his hand against his mouth to suppress another burp, grimacing at the sensation. “Only I didn’t rip his throat out, because then I thought about how I would actually have all that blood and tissue in my mouth and then I got so nauseous that I threw up all over his stupid designer shoes. Why does a vet even wear designer shoes, he should be afraid of dogs peeing and pooping on them all day! I swear, Stiles, I am ready to sell my soul for a bowel movement and I have been drinking prune juice for two days straight. I _hate_ prune juice, it makes me want to vomit, which, _hey,_ that’s original, it’s not like I’ve everdone _that_ before!”

Stiles looked at his agitated mate helplessly, growing more and more concerned when he saw Derek’s eyes beginning to water.

“There’s a four pound hyperactive werewolf baby pushing against my organs at every minute of every day, do you know how uncomfortable that is when you’re constipated? I’ll tell you how uncomfortable it is – _very_. I don’t even know where the pain from _that_ ends and the pain from being kicked at from the inside and being impossibly stretched on the outside begins.”

The first tears were beginning to fall down Derek’s cheeks and Stiles swallowed. He _hated_ seeing Derek cry and if he didn’t stop that soon, Stiles would start bawling as well and he figured that that would not necessarily make the situation any better.

“Literally all I can think about right now is pain! Pain and bowel movements and _you_ want me to take maternity pictures? Yeah, that is not happening! It’s bad enough that I have to wear _maternity_ pants, now you want me to take _maternity_ pictures? I’m not the mother! If at all, they would be _paternity_ pictures. Besides, such awesome photos those would be! Yes, really, the baby would _love_ them. Look, baby, this is your daddy when he hasn’t pooped in a week! This is how your daddy looks when he’s trying to stifle a burp that tastes like Indian curry and is also quite possibly burning holes in his esophagus! This is your daddy lying on the beach like a stranded whale, helplessly trying to kick his swollen legs and feet into the air because his back hurts so badly that he can’t even get up on his own! Yes Stiles, let’s take pictures to commemorate these _wonderful_ experiences!”

At the end of the rant Derek was actually crying, out of breath and hiccupping helplessly, grimacing in pain when more stomach acid was pushed through his esophagus. Stiles wasn’t a hundred percent sure if his touch would be welcomed when he climbed onto the couch and wrapped his crying mate in his arms but there was no way he would have let Derek cry like that alone either. Not that he would have been crying alone in the literal sense anyways, since Stiles himself was barely able to suppress tears at this point, partly because he felt guilty that he had apparently been so busy with work that he hadn’t even noticed Derek’s growing distress throughout the past couple of days and partly because he just really couldn’t stand to see his mate cry, period.

“I’m sorry Derek,” he whispered into the werewolf’s hair, pressing kisses against his temple and rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders and back, no longer able to stop the tears from falling and feeling utterly helpless when Derek burrowed his face into his shoulder and began sobbing in earnest, moaning in discomfort when the baby started kicking, obviously sensing its father’s distress.

The baby’s kicks usually didn’t bother Derek too much, only occasionally uncomfortable if they hit a particularly sensitive area with a little too much werewolf strength, but now they were almost overwhelming him, making him cry out against Stiles’ shoulder, his hands frantically grasping his belly to make the child stop.

Stiles could see the strong movements of the child even through Derek’s shirt and although he wasn’t a werewolf himself he could almost smell the baby’s agitation. Resolutely, he grabbed Derek’s tear-streaked face between his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Derek, love, please, you need to calm down,” he pleaded, letting one hand fall down towards Derek’s belly and pushing up his shirt, before he began rubbing large, soothing circles into the naked skin.

“She can sense when you are unhappy, please, calm down, Sweetie Pie is worried about you,” he muttered against Derek’s sweaty forehead, kissing his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, his chin, everywhere he could reach in the hopes of calming Derek down.

Appealing to Derek’s paternal instincts worked wonders. Although the tears were still running down his cheeks he started taking deep breaths, interrupted by the occasional hiccup, visibly trying to calm himself. His frantic pawing at his stomach turned into soothing strokes that seemed to calm down both him and the baby and when he finally stopped sobbing, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why are _you_ crying?” Derek asked when he looked at his mate, who shook his head in a mixture of fond exasperation.

“Should I be laughing when you are in pain and sobbing as if the world was coming to an end?” he replied and Derek sighed before looking down at his belly, placing one hand against his side and exhaling shakily when the baby gently nudged against it.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered and Stiles placed his other hand on the bump as well, his thumbs stroking the sides lightly when he bent down to press a soft kiss on the top of it.

“She says: It’s ok Daddy, I love you too, just try not to do it again,” he reported.

“She?” Derek asked, wiping the tears from his face and blowing his nose into a soft tissue. “I thought you were on Team Boy? And besides, what happened to my hairy calves, cold feet, gorgeous hair, and overall hotness?” he continued, grinning almost sheepishly when Stiles gave him an amused smile, obviously aware his red-rimmed eyes, blotchy face, and runny nose were everything but hot.

“I really did think we were having a boy there for a while,” Stiles agreed, a wistful smile on his face. “And six out of eleven old wives’ tales do point towards a boy, if you recall, so I guess that little munchkin could still have me fooled, but you know I have decided to trust my instincts rather than some old wives that I’ve never met personally, and right now my instincts are telling me that our baby is a beautiful Sweetie Pie of a girl,” he said, his voice shaking just the tiniest bit. He repositioned them so that Derek was propped against multiple pillows, his hurting feet placed on Stiles’ lap so he had better access for a foot massage.

“That was … really unpleasant, I was beginning to hope we were going to avoid hormonal catastrophes altogether. I feel kind of guilty that I’m the one who caused it,” Stiles said some time later and Derek shrugged, wisely refraining from telling Stiles about the equally severe meltdown he had experienced the other month.

“It’s not your fault Stiles, I was feeling bad all day and I just flipped I guess,” Derek offered, groaning in pleasure when Stiles began kneading a particularly sore spot on his feet.

“As for your picture idea,” he continued, raising his hands when Stiles looked like he was going to interrupt him. “I actually think it’s a good idea. I’m sure the baby would love to look at them later and so far all the pictures that exist of me pregnant were taken by Deaton for his book, which means they don’t include my face and I’m usually perched on a steel table in an animal clinic.”

“We really don’t have to …,” Stiles began, and Derek shook his head, silencing him again.

“Yes we do. I really want to do this. Just … let’s wait until I’ve had that bowel movement,” he finished, cheeks glowing red in embarrassment. Stiles pressed a soft kiss on his mate’s calf, smiling against the hairy skin.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

===============

 

Lydia, as it turned out, had already planned their maternity – also known as paternity – photo session for weeks, claiming that she had been just about to force them into it if they didn’t come to the conclusion themselves, and two days after Derek’s hormonal fallout the parents-to-be were sitting on the steps of the old Hale house.

It was almost done at this point and from the outside it looked like they lived there already, which was one of the reasons Lydia had chosen it as their shooting location. That, and of course the fact that it was far away from prying eyes, who would have undoubtedly been shocked to see a grown man cradling the heavily swollen, obviously pregnant belly of another man like it was the greatest treasure in the entire world.

A woman of many talents, Lydia worked efficiently and quickly, leaving them no time to feel embarrassed or awkward about the poses she had them get into and by the late afternoon she had produced more than a handful of photographs that could have been printed in a supernatural pregnancy magazine. Allison had volunteered to be her assistant and Derek blushed in embarrassment when the two women actually cooed over Stiles’ hands forming a heart on his stomach.

“It’s a shame we can’t take one of those pictures where you guys are holding block letters spelling girl or boy though, I always like those,” Allison had complained at some point during the shoot and Stiles had shrugged, suggesting that they could do one of each and decide which one to frame after the birth.

Lydia, who just happened to have brought these blocks with her, rolled her eyes at the suggestion but complied, having them face each other on the front porch while each of them held on to the horizontally stacked blocks, resting them against Derek’s belly.

The baby, which had been relatively calm throughout the shoot so far, delivered a sharp kick against Derek’s side when they were shooting the boy-pictures, kicking with such force that the loosely stacked blocks actually broke apart, making Derek wince in pain and allowing Lydia to get some pretty clear shots of the child’s little foot stretching out the skin of its father’s stomach.

“It didn’t complain when we did the girl-pictures – maybe Jackson has actually been rightfully calling it Princess all this time,” Allison mused, while a grinning Lydia clapped her hands excitedly, no doubt already imagining the adorable little outfits she could buy for a little girl.

Stiles was beaming as well, dropping down to pull Derek’s shirt up so he could rub his cheek against Derek’s skin. “Hey baby girl, glad you decided to say hello,” he cooed at his mate’s belly and Derek shook his head.

“First Jackson, then your dad, now you … this baby is going to have an identity crisis if it is a boy and can actually hear that it’s constantly being referred to as a girl,” he pretend-grumbled, grinning against Stiles’ lips when the younger man reached up to kiss him softly.

“She says: I’m not a boy, I’m Daddy’s little Princess Sweetie Pie,” Stiles said, his lips stretching out into a happy smile before he leaned in for another, deeper kiss.

Although Derek had complained about hanging the pictures up inside the house, arguing that one never knew if a stranger decided to visit them, it was a picture of that moment that ended up framed in their newly renovated bedroom, taken by Lydia while they hadn’t been paying attention.

In it, Derek was leaning against the frame of the front porch, his eyes closed while he was kissing Stiles and his hands covering Stiles’ hands, which were resting on his naked belly, the late afternoon sun lighting the image just right.

It was a beautiful picture and Stiles had lamented that he could not use it as a cell phone background, afraid that one of his coworkers would see it and ask questions he couldn’t really answer without traumatizing them. “Nothing traumatizing here, it’s simply beautiful,” Melissa had scolded him, whacking her quasi-son over the head.

 

=============

 

All in all, there had been a number of beautiful, special moments throughout the pregnancy so far, and Derek would forever be glad that they hadn’t waited any longer to take the pictures, because the moments that occurred two days after the photo session were neither beautiful, nor special (well, they were special alright, just not the right kind of special), and would forever be known as “The Day Derek Woke Up to Find He Suddenly Had a C-Cup And Everyone Freaked Out.”

His chest had begun to feel extremely sore the night before, his nipples becoming so irritated that Derek had first struggled out of his t-shirt – an almost herculean task for someone who was 8 months pregnant and lying on his back – and then kicked off the thin sheet of his side of the bed, as even the slightest touch of the sheet against his chest made him wince.

He had fallen asleep after that, too exhausted from growing a four-pound baby in his ever-expanding stomach, and woken to some sticky wetness on the mattress. Although he could no longer see his penis Derek was a guy, he was used to sticky wetness on mattresses. However, he was not used to it at his chest area and he groggily felt around, his eyes still closed, before suddenly freezing.

His hands had gripped onto something warm, heavy, and lumpy, something that should definitely not have been there. It was a Saturday morning and Stiles was still asleep next to him, however, that soon changed when Derek’s shocked exclamation of “What the hell?!” had his mate shooting up and out of the bed, hair sticking in every direction and a panicked expression on his face. The panic didn’t lessen when he took in Derek’s new breasts, which were resting on the large mound of his stomach. He pointed at them, his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s.

“But … but ...” He stammered, his eyes wide as saucers. Derek really couldn’t blame him.

“I have breasts. They’re leaking!” he exclaimed, voice growing unnaturally high in his panic and Stiles just kept standing there, gaping. Derek grasped them again and tugged, some irrational part of him hoping that this was a big joke and they would come off, but all that accomplished was pain and some more milky-white fluid dripping out of his nipples.

“This is _so_ not happening,” he whispered helplessly, looking at Stiles as if he hoped his mate would find a way to fix this, to get rid of them.

“They’re huge!” Stiles suddenly exclaimed, hands darting forward to touch them himself and Derek growled at him, slapping his hands away with much more force than he normally used with Stiles.

“ _That’s_ your priority?!” he barked, trying to cross his arms over his chest and then dropping them, pulling up the sheets instead because the act of crossing his arms suddenly felt alien to him.

“I’m leaving you and making Jackson the baby’s daddy after all, that’s what _I’m_ going to do you breast-obsessed pervert!” he ranted, heaving his large frame out of the bed and grabbing the biggest shirt he could find.

“What? Where are you going?” Stiles ran after him and Derek turned around so quickly that he almost stumbled, still not used to his new center of gravity yet.

“I’m going to Deaton and we’re going to find out why I suddenly have breasts, because there is no way that this is normal, which means that something is wrong!” he hissed and Stiles paled, excitement about the breasts completely forgotten.

20 minutes later Derek was half naked and sitting in front of Deaton, having finally accomplished his goal of making the former emissary lose his composure. Sadly, he was too freaked out to fully appreciate the event.

“Well, Derek …” Deaton said, flailing his arms and obviously unsure what to tell him. “You seem to have acquired the means to nurse your child. This is … unexpected.”

Derek laughed humorlessly. “They’ll go away right? As soon as the child is done nursing they will go away, right?”

Deaton shrugged. “I’m not going to tell you yes, when I honestly don’t know. They should … but again, I am not making guarantees.”

He took his notebook out of his pocket, obviously eager to report this new development in detail and it took all of Derek’s self-control to not rip the book away from him and slash his claws into it.  

“There are methods, right?” He soldiered on bravely. “Breast reductions can be performed for males as well, right?” he said and Deaton sighed before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Before you start thinking about plastic surgery, how about we see what is going to happen with these?” he suggested and Stiles nodded next to him, expression once again intrigued now that Deaton had confirmed that the baby and Derek were still doing well.

Resigning himself to his new, voluptuous fate, Derek stood up and went to put on his shirt, wincing when the full breasts jiggled uncomfortably. “They’re a little painful,” he complained, cupping them in his hands in an attempt to get more support and Deaton cleared his throat, looking very uncomfortable.

“That would be the point where I call Melissa and tell her to take you shopping for a nursing bra,” he said carefully, expression turning dangerously close to pity at the miserable look on Derek’s face.

Stiles wisely kept his mouth shut, even when Derek patted the top of his belly with a frown and said, “I really, really love you baby, but this is also something I am going to ground you for when you’re older.”

==============

Stiles had gone in to work, after dropping him off at the loft, having called ahead and told them he had needed to take his dog to an emergency doctor’s appointment – Derek was going to hurt him later – and that was just as well. He was still a little miffed about his mate’s enthusiasm about the breasts and didn’t even want to let the younger man touch them.

Well … he would probably let him touch them later, the pregnancy still making him too horny on a regular basis to resist Stiles’ touches for too long, but there would have to be negotiations and at least a 70:30 ratio of dick to breast touching, because he was still a _man_ , damn it, even though he was currently endowed like a female underwear model.

Since he was still upset Derek decided to call Peter, convinced his uncle had had at least _some_ sort of inkling that this might happen, if the not so unnecessary-after-all pump and nursing pillows at the Sheriff’s house were any indication. The call went to voice-mail and Derek left his uncle a few choice words that were sadly interrupted by the automated message that the inbox was full. It was probably for the best, since Peter and his breast pump-giving ways currently ranked significantly low on his list of favorite people.

Melissa McCall, meanwhile, was quickly becoming Derek’s favorite person in the world, he decided, when Scott’s mother showed up at the loft an hour later on her way to the hospital, having stopped by a Victoria’s Secret store before and bought him three black bras, thankfully without pink frills or anything of the sort.

“Did it have to be Victoria’s Secret, I heard that stuff is expensive?” Derek said, still blushing furiously whenever he looked at his new appendages and Melissa shoved the bag into his hand with determination.

“They might be expensive, but they are excellent quality and you will need the support, especially since you are not used to it.” She was clearly trying not to stare too obviously, which Derek was grateful for.

“I do need you to try them on though, even though Alan gave me your exact measurements they still might not fit you well considering your back is quite a bit broader than their usual customers’ and I obviously couldn’t take you to try them on,” she explained.

With a sigh Derek trotted to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before taking the first one out of the bag.

In the years before Stiles he had unhooked a bra or two every now and then, but he had never fastened one and he found the task almost impossible when he tried to reach behind his back and blindly grabbed.

“Melissaaa,” he finally yelled, definitely not whining, nope, not at all. “Where is the manual?” he huffed in frustration and he could hear Melissa trying to stifle her laughter outside.

“Do you need help honey?” she asked carefully and Derek sighed. It had finally been agreed upon that Melissa would actually be the one to deliver the baby, while Deaton would observe and record the proceedings, and she was soon going to see more of him than she had ever asked for, his insides included, so she might as well get used to it now.

“Please,” he groaned and Melissa opened the door slowly, stepping inside and giving him an encouraging smile, her eyes firmly trained on his face.

“The very simple trick is to put it on backwards, so that you can see what you’re doing, and then pulling it into the right position and slipping your arms through the straps,” she said and suddenly Derek felt stupid. That shouldn’t have been so complicated.

“Show me,” he whined, just wanting this to be over with, and Melissa’s cool hands moved quickly and efficiently, hooking the bra together and telling him to position it himself. When he was done she inspected the fit from all sides, giving him an apologetic glance when she cupped his breasts briefly to make sure the bra really fit.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now,” she finally remarked, satisfied that she had picked out the right size for Derek, “but most women would kill for such perfectly shaped full breasts,” she grinned ruefully and Derek sighed.

“Might as well be a hot freak, right?” he said and Melissa reached up to gently slap the back of his head.

“Don’t be ridiculous honey, you’re not a freak, you’re a supernatural miracle and also that’s my granddaughter you’re carrying so you better apologize to her right now for calling her a freak.”

Derek laughed, noting with relief that the bra was already making him feel more comfortable when he moved.

“With Scott and Stiles switching allegiances that officially puts Team Girl in the lead now,” he remarked and Melissa grinned.

“From what I hear Chris agrees with Erica that two males couldn’t conceive anything but a male, Peter is holding out hope for a male Hale first-born for once and Isaac is still refusing to make a gender-commitment, but I think at this point the rest of us enthusiastically embrace the fact that if two males can actually conceive anything at all, then they might as well conceive a beautiful little girl.”

She hovered her hand above the bump hesitantly and Derek nodded consent, grateful there were at least one or two people who always asked before touching him.

“Were you hoping for a boy?” she asked, her hands softly stroking his stretched skin. Derek shook his head.

“We weren’t hoping for anything, we just want a healthy, happy baby,” he said honestly and Melissa nodded in approval.

“That’s good, because trust me honey, this little pumpkin is _definitely_ a girl, and with that genetic material she will be breathtakingly beautiful.” She grinned. “You will have many, many, many sleepless nights when she’s old enough to date.”

Derek laughed, cradling his belly between his hands. “I already have sleepless nights right now, with the constant having to get up to pee and my darling child kicking me whenever I try to sleep, it’s not like I’m not used to that already.” Melissa winced in sympathy.

“Try to sleep as much as you can though, sleep is going to be a rarity around this place roughly 9 weeks from now.” Derek slumped his shoulders.

“Tell that to your granddaughter then,” he said, his spirits rising when he saw the happy smile on Melissa’s face, once again applauding Stiles’ decision to make it clear to her she was going to be this child’s grandparent just as much as the Sheriff.

He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure if the baby actually _was_ a girl, but somehow it felt right saying it.

=================

He finished two articles that afternoon before lying down for a short nap, the walk not far because they had finally moved the bed downstairs at the beginning of the week, and when he woke up, Stiles was hovering over him, his face mostly hidden by a large bouquet of flowers.

“I’m sorry for being such a breast-obsessed pervert in the face of your obvious distress. I will always love every part of you, but these breasts, gorgeous though they might be, will never inspire the kind of love-sonnets I could pen about your magnificent, manly penis. Will you please, please forgive me for being such a terrible mate,” Stiles begged and Derek couldn’t help but smile.

“It has since occurred to me,” he began, referring to their heated argument from earlier, “that I would much rather have you be excited about my unexpected breasts than be repulsed by my body. All is forgiven,” he said, happily accepting the soft kiss Stiles pressed against his lips.

“Are those … marzipan flowers?” he asked upon closer inspection of the bouquet, the delicious smell of almond and nougat wafting into his nose and Stiles shrugged.

“Yep. I figured you would actually appreciate these more,” he said and Derek was only a little embarrassed when his stomach grumbled in agreement. “Don’t eat one yet, you’re going to spoil your appetite for dinner, I’m making pasta,” Stiles suggested, hastily adding “or eat as much as you want, or even the whole bouquet, really,” when Derek raised his eyebrows in warning.

He was able to pace himself though, eating only two before dinner and three as a dessert, and by the time he was ready for bed Stiles was already propped against the pillows, patting the space next to him with an inviting grin.

“Come here, oh breathtakingly hot mate of mine,” he said gently and Derek dropped onto the bed with a sigh, glad to no longer be on his aching feet. He winced when he realized he had yet to take off the bra, having already gotten so used to its supportive presence that he never wanted to take it off again.

“What’s up,” Stiles asked, watching Derek twist and looking uncomfortable. “Baby using your organs for target practice again?”

Derek shook his head, tugging at his oversized sleeping shirt. “She’s sleeping I think,” he said, not even noticing that he had also begun to refer to the baby as a girl and missing the joyful expression in Stiles’ eyes when he did.

“I just got so used to the bra that I forgot to take it off before bed and I think I probably shouldn’t wear it during the night,” he said, struggling out of his shirt and leaning back against the pillows in only his boxers and the bra, putting every single curve of his body on excellent display for his mate.

This time, Stiles kept his hands on his sides, watching curiously as Derek peeled off the straps and tugged at the bra until he could unhook it without putting too much strain on his aching back. He leaned back with a sigh and Stiles smiled at him fondly.

“Better?” he asked.

“Not really,” Derek said honestly, his hands gingerly pushing against the unusual protrusions on his chest.

“My skin up here is so stretched it really hurts and considering they literally grew over night they are super sore on the inside as well.”

Stiles winced in sympathy. “Should I get the lotion?” he asked and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Could you be any less obvious about wanting to get your hands on these _babies_?” he said, his tone very tongue-in-cheek and Stiles grinned. He couldn’t help it.

“Nope!” he declared and Derek sighed before nodding impatiently. When Stiles got back to the bed, Derek had moved so that Stiles could get behind him and he leaned back against his mate with a sigh, closing his eyes as Stiles cupped the breasts in his hands before he began squeezing and massaging them gently, rolling Derek’s larger nipples between his fingers.

“You’re supposed to help me relax, not wind me up,” Derek grumbled, hissing when the sensitive nubs became hard under Stiles’ ministrations.

“As true as that may be,” Stiles murmured, his voice sounding enraptured, “this is also the first time that I actually get to play with breasts, I mean really get to play with them, not just touching them through ten layers of clothing. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t _need_ to play with breasts but this is nevertheless a teenage fantasy come to life! The fact that these breasts are attached to _you_ makes it even better, as weird as that may sound, and I really feel,” he flicked his fingers against the nubs gently, grinning when Derek moaned and sunk deeper into his embrace, “that we can reach a mutually beneficial compromise. You’ll feel better and I’ll … also feel better. Feel really good, in fact,” he said in an apologetic tone and Derek grunted when he could tell his mate’s beginning erection poking against his back.

“As long as you don’t want to suck on them yourself …” Derek began, sighing when Stiles went from half-mast to pulsating hard-on at his words. “… _Stiles_ ,” he complained, leaning back his head against his mate’s shoulders despite his best intentions, enjoying the way Stiles’ fingers were actually relieving some of the pressure. “I’m not a woman, these aren’t for playing they are for feeding the baby. It will be weird.”

“I’ve been sucking on your nipples ever since you got pregnant and even long before that,” Stiles murmured against his back, his voice having dropped with his arousal. “It wasn’t weird then.”

Derek moaned when Stiles kneaded a particularly sore spot. “This is different though, these are actual breasts,” he argued half-heartedly and Stiles chuckled.

“There’s just a little more mass to them now, just like there is to the rest of you, and you should know by now how much that turns me on,” Stiles replied, placing a soft kiss on Derek’s neck.

“Just don’t make it weird, alright?” Derek finally relented and Stiles kissed him soundly, before carefully moving around Derek and helping him lean against the pillows. When he was sure Derek was comfortable he swung his legs over Derek’s thighs, straddling his lap as best as he could and arching over Derek’s heavily swollen belly, supporting himself on Derek’s upper arms before capturing one of the nipples with his mouth.

Derek was certain that if he hadn’t been so sensitive it would have been weird, despite Stiles’ best efforts not to make it so, but as it was, his body betrayed him and he realized the stimulation was arousing him.

When Stiles noticed his erection he brought one of his hands under Derek’s stomach and began stroking him with his lotion-slick fingers, timing the strokes with licks and nips at his breasts. Stiles was the first to come, shooting his come all over Derek’s belly.

After a brief recovery period he redoubled his efforts and moved down, his fingers replaced with his mouth as he licked at Derek’s relatively-lotion free tip and his fingers fondling his balls. When Derek came he actually did so with a loud howl and afterwards he sank back into the pillows with a contented sigh while Stiles cleaned his belly with a warm washcloth.

He smiled gratefully at his mate when he returned to the bed and snuggled against him from behind, the human’s hands resting lightly on the side of his stomach, no longer able to drape his arm completely over it.

His orgasm had relaxed his entire body and thanks to the massage his breasts – nope, he was not going to get used to that particular thought – actually did feel better and he was about to fall asleep when Stiles suddenly nudged his nose against the older man’s shoulder.

“Hey Derek?” he asked, smiling when Derek muttered “Yeah?” obviously half asleep.

“We are kind of in agreement now that Sweetie Pie is a girl, aren’t we?” he said, the love in his voice unmistakable.

“We and almost the entire rest of the pack, apparently,” Derek responded sleepily.

Stiles grinned brightly. “Well, I’m quite certain your left breast is a little bigger than the right one, which also proves that she’s a girl.” The warning growl next to him would have probably been more terrifying it hadn’t been followed by a big yawn immediately.

“It could still be a boy,” Derek yawned again, closing his eyes for good measure.

“Nah,” Stiles disagreed, his hand gently rubbing small circles into Derek’s belly. “Sweetie Pie is totally a girl, it’s a wonder it took us this long to figure it out. Hey baby, can you tell us what you are?” he said, softly poking Derek’s stomach. “Are you a little boy?” he wondered, his hand moving down to cup the underside of Derek’s belly, “or are you a little girl?”

The baby kicked – hard, if the pained noise Derek made was any indication. “You’re a little girl, aren’t you?” Stiles said in wonder and the baby kicked again, pushing out its little foot two inches above Derek’s navel.

“Will you stop riling her up, I was about to fall asleep,” Derek chastised him, chasing his hands away with his own and growling when Stiles merely said “Ooops.”

“You just had to wake her up again? Didn’t you?” Derek groaned two hours later, his hands stroking his belly in what he hoped were soothing motions.

“To be fair,” Stiles argued, actually feeling guilty when he saw the bags under Derek’s eyes, “I doubt it was me who woke her up in the first place, your orgasm howl is really pretty loud.”

He stilled, his eyes flying open in shock. “Oh my god Derek, do you think we are traumatizing our baby with all the sex we’re having?”

Grunting, Derek rolled on his other side and closed his eyes, not even wanting to dignify that with an answer. 

“Hey Derek?” Stiles said five minutes later and Derek sighed deeply.

“What?!” he groaned, turning back to Stiles and looking extremely put out.

“Now that we are decided that she is a girl, we can narrow the name discussion down to only girl names. That should make it easier.”

“Considering that we were pretty much in agreement on Jonathan for a boy that actually makes it harder,” Derek commented dryly and Stiles shook his head.

“ _You_ were in agreement on that, I still say Jacob John, JJ for short, is a kick-ass name.”

“Moving on,” Derek interrupted him, a reproachful look on his face for Stiles’ choice in baby nicknames and his never-ending love for _Twilight_ , “how about we each narrow our list of girl names down to five that we really like and then go from there?”

“Sophia, Selena, Sabrina, Sandra, Saphira,” Stiles recited immediately and Derek shook his head.

“They all end in ‘a’ and they all begin with the same letter – also, Saphira, really?” he said with a frown and Stiles grinned.

“What can I say, I really like names that begin with ‘s’.”

“Well, I’m going to suggest Domenica, Danielle, Dariah, Darcy, and Deborah then,” Derek countered and Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“Darcy? As in Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice? I love the BBC movie version but I might have to put my foot down about that,” he threatened and Derek sighed.

“How about we both put some more thought into this? Maybe some boy names, too, just in case,” he suggested tiredly, hissing when he rubbed a particularly sore spot below his navel. Stiles placed his hand below Derek’s, rubbing gently.

“She says ‘I’m not a boy and every single one of your name suggestions suck, oh beloved fathers of mine’,” he reported when the baby kicked against his hand and Derek closed his eyes in defeat.

“That’s all very well, but I really, really want to sleep now,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Hey Derek?” Stiles, in Derek’s esteemed opinion, was smiling way too brightly considering it was way past midnight.

“What Stiles?”

“You know what this means, right?”

“It means that you and your daughter aren’t letting me go to sleep?” Derek replied and Stiles shook his head fondly.

“No! Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant. It means that now I know which totally cheesy lullaby I’m going to sing to her after she’s born.”

“Why don’t you start singing it to her right now, maybe then I’ll finally get some sleep,” Derek suggested, burrowing his face into his pillow and squeezing his eyes shut for good measure.

With a fond smile Stiles pressed his lips to the bump and started singing quietly.

“I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside I’ve got the month of May,” he began, his hand resting lightly on Derek’s hips, noting happily that although his Sleepy Wolf had his eyes closed he was also smiling.

“I guess, you’d say, what can make me feel this way, my girl,” Stiles continued, voice dropping down to a whisper to allow Derek to actually get some rest, hoping he could lull both his mate and his baby to sleep.

He was still humming the melody softly when the baby had quieted down and Derek was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here's the thing: I have read many Mpregs in the past 14 years and while I obviously like fluff just as much as the next person (as evidenced by the last couple of lines in this chapter and literally half of this fic) I also like it when things are realistic. Not an easy task when you are writing about unrealistic male pregnancies in the first place, but you gotta make do with what you got.
> 
> In this chapter, that love for realism resulted into two scenes that I thought long and hard about before I put them in. 
> 
> One is the part about the hemorrhoids. I do have one or two friends who had picture-perfect pregnancies and frolicked happily through fields of flowers for like 9 months, but for the large majority that was not the case and a lot of them complained about wishing that they had known some of the things that people usually don't talk about. Hemorrhoids are not necessarily a common trope of mpregs, I get that, but at the same time, I wondered why only women should be saddled with them ;-). 
> 
> Secondly, the breasts. If you read "#SurpriseKnot" you may remember that the only reason Mpreg is possible in this verse is because in my version of werewolf biology, male Alphas can alter their biology to accommodate having a same-sex partner to carry on the blood-line. Based on this reasoning, there is a deep evolutionary urge to successfully procreate embedded in Derek's biology and since we all know that breast milk is best for an infant, it really does not make sense for Derek's Alpha powers to make him able to carry a child that will then starve because he can't feed it (yes, modernity has formula, but I doubt werewolf evolution cares about that). Ergo, this kind of had to happen. I do promise they are not going to play a large (no pun intended) role in the story beyond this point but nevertheless, as far as 'realistic mpreg' goes, it was inevitable. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed this chapter, it is probably the longest of all of them.
> 
> Next Up: Derek and Stiles move into the Hale House, the Pack continues to be awesome and the expectant parents successfully narrow down the name discussion.


	8. 34 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles move into the Hale House, the pack continues to be awesome and the expectant parents successfully narrow down the name discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Alert: There is a minor spoiler about the end of the Harry Potter series in here. It's not a big one, but nevertheless, you've been warned! 
> 
> Also: I profoundly apologize if your name comes up in Derek and Stiles' name discussion and you feel offended because of the way it is rejected ... remember, Derek and Stiles' opinions don't necessarily reflect my own. 
> 
> And a culinary warning (I almost want to put up a tag for "Gross Food Descriptions"): thanks to my lovely reader Bashfyl, I was made aware of a particularly horrid pregnancy craving sandwich combination and because I'm naturally curious and also felt it would help me to describe Stiles' reaction better, I decided to try it for science. 
> 
> Stiles basically becomes my mouth-piece as I let him tell you in detail just what I thought about that sandwich.

_34 Weeks – May 6 th 2023_

 

At 34 weeks pregnant Derek was definitely experiencing some sort of a supernatural identity crisis. All his life he had believed he was a werewolf, but now, during his 9th month of pregnancy, he no longer thought this to be true. He wasn’t a were _wolf_ , he was definitely a were _duck_ ; a huge, swollen, waddling duck ready for a mercy-slaughter.

Thinking that his mate actually saw the humor in the situation – an observation derived from the fact that Derek had even taken to calling himself a wereduck in front of the entire pack – Stiles had made a quacking sound the other day as Derek was slowly making his way to the fridge without thinking. The resulting crying fit, that had shocked Derek just as much as Stiles, had quickly taught the human to never ever do that again.

He had also had his first set of Braxton Hicks contractions two and a half weeks ago, which, although not mind-numbingly painful, had been extremely uncomfortable and resulted in a very panicky Stiles calling Melissa at 4 in the morning.

Luckily, Melissa had been on call at the hospital and had gotten one of the gynecologists, who was currently on a break, to answer Stiles’ frantic enquiries about what the pain his ‘wife’ was in meant.

There had been two repeats since and Derek’s attitude about them had been less than stellar, complaining that one would have thought his magical uterus would realize it wasn’t connected to a birth canal and therefore refrain from ‘practicing’ for a vaginal birth.

“Don’t forget about the ass-babies in my knotting fan fictions Derek,” Stiles had said with a sympathetic grimace. It had been five o’clock in the morning and he had been sitting behind Derek, alternating between kneading the small of his back and massaging his belly, clearly able to feel the way Derek’s stomach would turn rock-hard and contract under his hands. Derek’s reply, which would have no doubt been very colorful, was cut off by a pained moan when his muscles cramped up again and Stiles had pressed a soft kiss against his temple in apology.

All in all, apart from the loss of Derek’s confident Alpha swagger, the newest addition to the pregnancy-pains list, and the fact that his belly button had turned from an innie into an outie, clearly visible through some of the tighter shirts he owned, the latest big change in their lives had been their move into the old Hale house, which they now called the Hale-Stilinski residence.

It was the beginning of May, not too hot yet to move heavy furniture and excellent weather conditions for completing the finishing touches on the house.

Unlike his earlier complaints of being coddled, Derek was perfectly happy not to move a single finger to help, parking himself in a rocking chair on the front porch, directing his pack to where he wanted things to go, and sipping on some homemade blueberry lemonade courtesy of Melissa.

He probably looked utterly domestic as he sat there, a plate of fruit – sadly not dipped in Nutella, since Melissa and Deaton had gently but firmly put a stop to any unnecessary weight-gaining food consumption last week – placed on the dome of his stomach and sucking through the straw, if the looks of fondness and adoration his pack and family threw him were any indication.

There had also been quite a few cell-phone pictures. He had threatened dismemberment if they ever showed up online.

The last item to be carried into the house, under the watchful eyes of Stiles and the Sheriff, was the crib, a beautiful hand-carved piece of art that the Sheriff had worked on for months.

Derek had balked at the pale pink bedding that came with it, arguing that they were already gender-stereotyping their daughter before they even had a 100 percent confirmation that she _was_ a daughter and the Sheriff had grinned, quipping that they should be glad he had refrained from buying too many clothes for the baby until now, having previously been unaware of the large selection of adorable little dresses you could buy for girls these days.

Stiles, who may or may not have spent more time than he would ever be wiling to admit online looking at little girls dresses in the past few weeks, had wistfully agreed.

They had decided to set up the baby’s nursery in Laura’s old room, a decision that had been made to honor the late firstborn of the Hale family and Derek hoped that, somehow, through inexplicable, supernatural ways, this would help the baby feel more connected to the large family she would never get the chance to meet.

“Do you want to come look?” Stiles asked, interrupting his musings. “It actually looks quite amazing in there now,” he added, holding out his hand to pull Derek out of the chair.

It was yet another one of these little things that they didn’t talk about, although no one missed the look of dismay that briefly flitted across Derek’s face over not even being able to get up from a chair without help any more.

He slowly made his way up the stairs, which, now that they were renovated, were a little easier to ascend than the winded narrow flight of his loft, despite the fact that he was even larger now than when they had moved the bed down to the living room.

Stiles hadn’t lied. The room was perfect, every little detail speaking of love, safety, and comfort. The walls had been painted a light blue, because Stiles had read that blue was supposed to be a calming color, and every member of the pack had painted a wolf on the blue surface. Some looked more like disfigured dogs and stunted horses, but to Derek they were perfect, symbolizing that the pack was going to watch over the baby as it slept.

“I can’t believe this is our home now,” Stiles smiled and moved behind Derek, his hands lightly resting on his sides, officially no longer able to wrap him up in an embrace.

“I know,” Derek said quietly, feeling grateful that they were alone to share this moment. He loved the pack and he appreciated all they were doing for him and Stiles, but he knew that the last moments of just the two of them were passing by quickly and he wanted to make every single one count.

Stiles had been right, all those years ago, when they had become mates on the memorable night Derek had wanted to treat Stiles to dinner at a nice restaurant and they had become distracted by their mutual suit-clad hotness. He really was a Sappy Wolf sometimes – but he was also Stiles’ Wolf and, much like Stiles himself, he loved that most of all.

 

=============

 

“There’s a beautiful hand-carved crib sitting in the nursery and it has cute pink bedding – we really need to name her,” Stiles said later that night, after the pack had left to let them spend the first night in their new home in peace.

Derek, who was propped up on some pillows and sitting in the bed next to him, grimaced. “We are still not naming her Renesmee,” he said, and Stiles grinned ruefully.

“Again, you made that impressively clear months ago,” he said and Derek nodded.

“I did,” he agreed, still not sounding particularly guilty about that incident.

“I’m assuming something like Talidia or Claulia is out as well?” Stiles gave him an innocent look and Derek rolled his eyes.

“As much as the first option would probably please Lydia, try saying the second one five times in a row.” He shook his head in fond exasperation.

“I was actually hoping you would be ok with naming her Talia Claudia or Claudia Talia as middle names. I don’t want to burden her with expectations that she has to live up to either of our mothers by giving it to her as a first name,” he mused.

Stiles made himself comfortable on his side, snuggling up to Derek and resting one hand on his stomach while the other propped up his head.

“Talia Claudia sounds good to me. You’re carrying her; your mother’s name should be first. Although you do realize that poor Sweetie Pie will have to fit three names on her driver’s license and every single official document she will ever have to fill out, right? We live in a country that punishes people with more than one middle name by forcing them to squeeze them into impossibly tiny boxes,” Stiles grinned, his hand following the slow movements of the baby.

“Talia Claudia then,” Derek agreed in a soft voice, his eyes suspiciously moist. “That still does not answer the question of what her first name should be,” he continued and Stiles nodded.

“I don’t know … there are quite a lot of names that I like, but honestly, I only think about her as Sweetie Pie.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “We are not putting that on the birth certificate, I’m not Kim Kardashian,” he grumbled and Stiles laughed.

“One of these days we need to sit down and discuss just how much old trash television you are watching on a daily basis, but no, we are obviously not naming her Sweetie Pie,” he agreed, rolling his own eyes for good measure.

“It can’t end in ‘a’,” Derek thought out loud, “the fact that Talia and Claudia sort of rhyme is more than enough.”

Stiles sighed dramatically. “There goes my little Sophia,” he said and Derek shrugged.

“We could call her Sophie?” he suggested and Stiles grimaced.

“That sounds like a prim and proper British princess. I know Jackson always calls her Princess, but our baby will most likely be a werewolf and I just don’t see that working out for her. Sophie, would you be so kind as to remove yourself from the pile of dirt? Sophie, would you deem it acceptable to spit out the bunny carcass you just hunted? No, not happening.”

Derek gave him an affronted look. “I can’t even believe that you would talk about bunnies and our baby in the same sentence,” he said, his eyebrows rising in consternation and Stiles blushed, the memory of his misguided bunny-seduction techniques during the first year of their relationship still painfully vivid.

“I’ll also have you know I never had the urge to hunt animals when I was a child and neither will Pie,” Derek continued and Stiles gave him an amused look.

“If you just call her Pie that sounds like math,” he argued and Derek rubbed his stomach.

“Normal people won’t think about math, they’ll think about pie: delicious, creamy pie. Maybe cherry pie or cherry vanilla pudding pie.”

Stiles pressed a kiss to the bump, smiling against Derek’s bare skin. “No more thoughts about cherry pie, you heard what Melissa said,” he said with an apologetic tone and Derek sighed deeply.

“How about Lillian, Lily for short,” he asked and Stiles shook his head.

“Everyone and their mother is named Lily these days, also it’s Harry Potter’s mom and she died young, so that’s out,” he voiced his concerns, grinning when Derek growled something that sounded suspiciously like “We’re not naming her Leia either.”

“Leia would have been a kick-ass name, but it ends in ‘a’ so that’s out,” Stiles lamented, his hand playing with Derek’s belly button.

“How about a name starting with L though? In a way it would honor Laura …”

“… and be a nice gesture towards Lydia,” Derek finished his sentence.

“Laura would have loved that and Cora will appreciate it as well. Also, I do want Pie to take after her aunt Lydia in the smarts department,” he mused.

“I like that!” Stiles grinned, before frowning. “Don’t you think Erica and Allison will be upset though?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think Allison will expect me to honor a hunter when naming my child and as excited as Erica is about our child, it doesn’t even come close to Lydia’s enthusiasm. I actually think she has already planned out Pie’s outfits for all the important moments all the way up through graduation,” Derek said and Stiles nodded, not needing to say that if he were to honor any of their female friends it would of course be Lydia.

“Well, if we cut it down to L-names that don’t end in ‘a’, that at least narrows it down a little,” Stiles said, his face scrunched up deep in thought. “How about Lexie?”

Derek laughed. “Lexie is short for Alexandra – no one is just named Lexie and also … aren’t you the one who lamented about every other Mary Sue in Harry Potter fan fiction being named Lexie?” he continued and Stiles rubbed his eyes.

“The one time you remember something about fan fiction and you use that knowledge to mock me. Fine, no Lexie then - Lory?” Derek shook his head.

“Add one more ‘r’ and we are essentially calling her ‘truck’.” Stiles chuckled.

“This is the USA, I doubt anyone will know that.”

They were silent for a while, each trying to come up with a name that started with L and did not end in ‘a’.

“Lacey?” Stiles thought out lout and Derek snorted.

“So we can name the next ones Stacey and Tracey? Don’t look at me that way, I know two separate families that did that!”

“Lanie?”

“That sounds like we are naming her after a street lane we found particularly cute.”

“Not true, there is a kick-ass doctor on _Castle_ named Lanie and we want her to be a doctor, right?”

“Stiles, she can be everything she wants to be and we are not naming her after fictional characters you like on television.”

“Latifah? It ends with an ‘h’ so it would fit our rule?”

“Didn’t I just say television personalities are out?”

“I’ll have you know she’s a queen, so it would be befitting to name Princess Sweetie Pie after her!”

“And how is ‘Latifah stop playing in the mud’ any better than my Sophie suggestion?”

Stiles shook his head impatiently, ignoring the comment.

“Lauren?“

“If I wanted to name the child after Laura I would use Laura, and not some variation of it. Letting the name start with ‘L’ is fine, but Lauren is not.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, clearly not able to follow Derek’s logic.

“Lavender?”

Derek sputtered. “You want to name our child after a character that gets mauled to death by a werewolf in _Harry Potter_?”

Stiles winced, regretting that he had also forced Derek to read _Harry Potter_ and feeling a little sheepish at the same time. Derek had a point of course.

“On second thought ... Lorelei!” he grinned a minute later and Derek shook his head.

“Lorelei is a siren and our daughter is not luring anyone into her bedroom until she is forty, so she won’t be able to use that name to its full potential,” Derek said emphatically and Stiles grinned.

“Forty is a bit harsh, let’s say thirty,” he argued and Derek cradled his belly protectively, flashing him an angry glare. “Thirty-five,” he said and Stiles could barely keep in his grin when he said. “Deal!” They looked at each other for a second, before breaking out into laughter.

“We just became _those_ parents, right?” Stiles grinned, his eyes glowing with amusement. “Also, weren’t you the one who was all for giving our innocent daughter _the talk_?” he continued and Derek shrugged.

“It’s like we’ve actually been trying to fulfill every single stereotype there is, it was bound to happen. And besides, just because I want her to _know_ about these things, doesn’t mean she is allowed to actually _do_ them,” Derek defended himself, barely able to hide a grin as well.  

“This is hard,” Stiles complained some time later and Derek, who was trying to find a position to sleep in, grunted.

“I really don’t think it’s supposed to be easy.”

================

 

Once they had settled in the house Derek never wanted to leave, fully aware he was nesting and not caring in the slightest, taking it as more proof that he had been a wereduck in hiding all along.

It took all of Stiles’ convincing skills to lure him away from his planned mid-afternoon snack of a pickle, peanut butter and maple syrup sandwich and get him to go out on a walk through the preserves with him one day, arguing that the fresh air would be good for the baby and give him the opportunity to stretch his legs a little before he developed a case of serious cabin fever.

Derek had finally agreed under the condition that he could take the sandwich to-go and they had slowly walked through the woods for almost an hour, interrupted by pauses every now and then so Derek could rest his back and catch his breath, a task that was becoming harder and harder now that the baby really was taking up space inside of him and taking away some of the space normally occupied by his lungs.

It was a humid day and Stiles was a bit worried when Derek lost interest in the sandwich about halfway through, not used to him passing up on an opportunity to eat anymore. Worry quickly turned to horror when Derek forced him to eat the rest of the sandwich, arguing that it would be the saddest, most horrible thing ever if the precious sandwich were discarded half-eaten.

His eyes had been suspiciously watery when he had made his plea and it was the pressing danger of even more big, sad, werewolf tears that prompted Stiles, still remembering the wereduck crying fit and the maternity-picture-session-breakdown, to chow down on the sandwich like a man on a mission.

If one had asked his opinion about the sandwich, he would have responded that if hell had a cafeteria, it would be the only thing on the menu.

After the baby had been born he was resolved to remind Derek of this day, remind him just how much he loved him, as evidenced by the fact that he managed to smile around the mouthful of sandwich, even while his taste buds were dying a painful death.

It was no wonder that Derek still got nauseous on occasion, if he ate stuff like this all day. The texture combination of squishy bread, creamy peanut-butter, crisp pickles and sticky maple syrup made his skin crawl and the flavor combination, beginning with an overwhelming mixture of pickle and maple syrup only to be replaced by the last desperate outcry of peanut-butter, was almost more than he could take.

Sadly, Derek was watching him like a hawk, which made it impossible to spit out the offending snack. With a last, desperate gulp Stiles swallowed the rest of the sandwich and took Derek’s hand, aware that he was probably grinning like a madman.

There was no way he would ever let Derek go, not before and definitely not now, after having seen him go through so much discomfort so that they could have a family but if _Derek_ ever got tired of him, Stiles would present the sandwich as evidence at the werewolf mating-divorce court to secure a hefty alimony-sum.

When they came back to the house Derek sniffed suspiciously, turning to Stiles with a confused frown.

“Why is the entire pack, your father, Melissa, Deaton _and_ Chris in the house?” he asked and Stiles whistled, secretly cursing Derek’s freakishly heightened sense of smell.

“No reason whatsoever,” he said, tugging on Derek’s hand to lead him through the door.

When they entered the living room, the pack yelled “Surprise!” a message that was also written on the large banner hanging across the wall, the one looking suspiciously similar to the intervention banner they had had to use during Derek’s first trimester. It seemed like ages ago.

“Guys, I said you shouldn’t throw me a baby shower,” Derek said, although he was admittedly moved by the gesture.

“And we honored your request,” Scott said, stepping forward with an air of importance. “This is not a baby-shower – it’s a Derek-shower.”

Derek raised his brows in confusion. “What’s a Derek-shower?” he asked and Lydia gestured for him to sit down in the armchair Scott had bought for them a couple of months ago. There was no way he was going to get out of it without help, but it was most definitely more comfortable than their couch.

“Basically,” she explained, with Jackson nodding next to her, “it’s an event where you are going to sit comfortably in a chair and we are going to tell you exactly why we admire you.”

“And love you,” Stiles added, planting himself on the armrest and stroking the nape of Derek’s neck gently.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Lydia said all businesslike, clapping her hands and looking at the pack expectantly. Isaac sheepishly raised his hand.

“I admire you,” he began, his cheeks blushing brightly, “for having the patience to listen to my fears and rants about my new job, when no one would have blamed you for having nothing but the pregnancy on your mind.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “I admire you for all the months when you put up with Stiles’ ridiculous control phase, a lesser man would have clubbed him to death with a baseball bat,” he deadpanned and Stiles squeaked in protest.

“I admire you,” Melissa interrupted him, “for gracefully accepting a lot of physical changes that were no doubt scary and uncomfortable for you, just to give us a gorgeous little granddaughter,” she said and Deaton nodded.

“I admire your willingness to try this at all, even though I could not give you any guarantees as to how it was going to go,” he said.

“I appreciate you for how happy you make my best friend,” Scott said softly, eyes moist when he smiled at them both.

“I admire you for being the manliest person to ever rock a bra,” Erica grinned, referring to that one time she had accidentally walked in on Derek getting dressed when they had been lugging boxes out of the loft to prepare the move.

“And on that note,” Lydia added, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “I admire the determination with which you have avoided resorting to Stiles’ horrible plaid shirts throughout the entire pregnancy. I can honestly say that I was a little afraid that that was going to happen,” she said, the warmth in her eyes speaking more of her affection than anything she would have been willing to say out loud.

“I love that you are taking the pressure off of me and Scott to have children for now. I know it won’t be as scary after we’ve seen you raise that little munchkin,” Allison winked and Chris grunted.

“I appreciate that your gorgeous child will show my daughter how much she is depriving me of by not making me a proud grandpa,” he declared, his tone only half-serious.

“I admire your dedication to family – there is nothing more important,” Boyd said simply and Peter nodded, quietly saying “I admire you for having the courage to continue our family,” looking away so he wouldn’t have to see Derek’s reaction and acting like he was not affected at all.

“I love you for giving me back a home and family to come visit,” Cora smiled and Derek swallowed, the tears he had been fighting back ever since the first declaration now in serious danger of falling down his face.

“It means the world to me that you are trusting me to be a father figure to you, believe me when I say that I realize the significance. And it goes without saying that now that you are giving me a beautiful grandbaby, I will never arrest you again,” the Sheriff said and Derek laughed, taking Stiles’ hand and squeezing when the younger man muttered that it was usually his fault when his father arrested Derek anyways.

The pack turned towards the nervous father-to-be expectantly, everyone curious what Stiles was going to say.

Aware that all eyes were on him, Stiles twisted on the armrest so he could look at Derek. “Derek,” he began, his voice already cracking.

“Shit, I wasn’t going to cry until the end … and now I cursed in front of the baby, crap.” He wiped at his eyes, blinking owlishly. “I …” he began again, placing both hands on the bump and smiling brightly when their child kicked ‘hello’. “I love you, I ... I want to say … I mean I just … thank you. For being mine.”

They were probably going to break the record for simultaneous crying by the time the baby was even born, but with Stiles’ hands on his belly, the loving look in his eyes and the softness of his lips gently pressed against his, Derek found he didn’t care at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I actually know two separate families that thought naming their daughters Lacey, Stacey and Tracey was just the best idea ever and while most of Derek and Stiles' opinions on names do not reflect my own, I will definitely admit that this particular one was my own opinion. 
> 
> If anyone knows equally horrendous name choices, please share in the comments, I'm always curious! 
> 
> Next Up: 38 Weeks, featuring a California heat wave that forces Derek to grudgingly check one item off the pregnancy symptoms checklist that he was really proud to have avoided so far, an incident during Melissa's birthday party that has a panicked Scott actually rip the guestroom's door off its hinges and Derek and Stiles finally agree on a name.


	9. 38 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A California heat wave forces Derek to grudgingly check one item off the pregnancy symptoms checklist that he was really proud to have avoided so far, an incident during Melissa's birthday party has a panicked Scott actually rip the guestroom's door off its hinges and Derek and Stiles finally agree on a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if your name comes up in the name-discussion and you don't like the way it is dismissed, I'm deeply sorry but well, Derek's just kind of opinionated ;-)

_38 Weeks – June 4 th 2023_

The first heat wave of the year hit Northern California at the end of May and four days later, barely a day shy of being 39 weeks pregnant, Derek was utterly and absolutely miserable. Deaton and Melissa, the latter of whom had started to joke that she should receive an honorary doctorate in gynecology after the baby had been born, had calculated that Derek would probably go into labor within the next two weeks, maybe even sooner, and since he was expecting to be significantly smaller soon, Derek had refused to spend any more money on even larger clothing, despite the fact that really the only thing he seemed to fit into comfortably these days was Boyd’s old Lacrosse Jersey.

Stiles had griped that Derek wasn’t wearing _his_ Lacrosse Jersey, but ever since Derek’s belly had dropped Stiles’ old jersey simply wasn’t long enough to cover him. Not that Derek was too interested in being covered up too much, considering he was sweating constantly and barely able to tolerate the high temperatures, but his breasts were even more swollen these days and he didn’t want to make certain members of the pack uncomfortable by parading his new assets around them like that.

It was a justifiable concern, since lately it seemed like at least one pack member was hanging out at their house at all times. It was driving Derek stir-crazy, but he knew that he was at least partially responsible for the latest worry-binge his Betas had embarked on and if he was completely honest he did feel grateful that they were so concerned about him. The incident that had caused all the worry had happened last week and Stiles still claimed he had found grey hairs in the aftermath.

It had been scorching hot all day and Derek, who really should have known better, had spent most of the day sleeping in their bedroom, which was the only room that had a ceiling fan so far. The heat had made him so sleepy that he had barely had the energy to open his eyes, let alone drink anything and as a result, he was dehydrated and groggy by the time Scott and Allison showed up that evening.

They had been planning to bake spinach lasagna and even though Stiles had complained that it was too hot for hot food, Derek had argued that they should not let the fresh ingredients go to waste, therefore, the kitchen was even hotter than the rest of the house when Scott and Allison arrived.

They had been sitting in the living room while the lasagna baked and when the timer sounded Derek had gotten up quickly. They were still experimenting with their new oven and Derek had not been in the mood to deal with burnt pasta.

The combination of slight dehydration, quick movement, and the heat that had slammed into him when he neared the kitchen had hit him like a punch in the gut and he had swayed, suddenly as dizzy and nauseous as during the first part of the pregnancy. Derek had barely had the time to call out “Stiles,” before everything went black.

When he had come to he had been cradled in Stiles’ arms, a frantic Scott had been pushing his face into his belly and Allison had been on the phone to Melissa, telling her to come as quickly as possible.

For a moment, Derek had been terrified, but when he had focused on the baby’s heartbeat it was strong, although the child had been moving rather agitatedly, obviously having caught on to the distress of its father. Fathers, Derek had corrected himself, sure that if the baby was a werewolf it had also caught on to the panicked heartbeat of its other father.

He had looked up at his trembling mate, wincing when the eye movement resulted in a pounding headache. “Sti …” he had croaked out, his throat suddenly very dry and Stiles had steadied his head against his lap.

“Don’t speak Derek, Melissa is on her way and we are taking you to Deaton’s right now. Everything will be fine. Scotty caught you as you were going down so I don’t think you bruised anything and he says the baby sounds fine so you will be just fine.”

For a human, Stiles would have sounded very reassuring and calming, but Derek was a werewolf and had literally been able to smell the panic wafting off of his mate, which was not reassuring at all.

“Relax,” he had managed after taking a sip from the glass of water that Allison had thrust into his face.

“I’m fine,” he had said, in an attempt to keep Stiles from actually having a panic attack and Stiles had taken a deep gulping breath, obviously wanting to argue but probably realizing that it would be in everyone’s best interest to keep Derek calm.

Derek had felt like a bearded damsel in distress when Scott lifted him up bridal style as if he weighed nothing, carried him out to the jeep and placed him on the back seat, where Allison had already been waiting for him. Derek hadn’t been sure if Stiles should be the one to drive, but the panic he had smelled before had been replaced by determination when his mate got on the driver’s seat, allowing Derek to relax a little.

When they had gotten to the animal clinic Melissa had already been waiting in front of the door, anxiety clear on her face. As soon as Scott had placed him on the exam table, she had been all over him, checking his pulse, his eyes, and gently examining his belly. By the time Deaton had started the ultrasound machine the anxious look on her face had disappeared and been replaced by gentle disapproval.

“You are severely dehydrated. You realize how irresponsible that is in this weather?” she had tsked at him and Derek had nodded, wincing once again when the movement shot another spike of pain through his head.

Six pairs of eyes were glued on the grainy screen of the ultrasound machine as Deaton had tried to look for signs that the baby was in distress and they had all breathed a sigh of relief when he announced the baby to be fine.

“Should we perform the C-Section today?” Stiles had suddenly asked, his voice a little shaky. “I mean, Derek has been extremely uncomfortable for days and 37 weeks should be fine, right?”

Before Deaton or Melissa could respond Derek had shaken his head and lifted himself into a sitting position with a bit of difficult.

“She’s not ready yet,” he had said with conviction, calm eyes fixed on Stiles’ nervous ones. “I can deal with this a bit longer and I won’t make today’s mistake again, but I just know she needs some more time and we are going to proceed as we planned. No C-Section until I actually feel labor pains.”

Again, Stiles had looked like he wanted to argue, but Derek had determinedly pushed himself off the exam-table, impatiently swatting away the hands that shot out to steady him.

“I’m fine. And no, that’s not necessary,” he had huffed when Scott made motions that suggested he wanted to pick him up again. The car ride back to their house was mostly silent until Derek had had enough.

“Stiles, if you don’t keep your eyes on the road, something far worse is going to happen to me than having to cross fainting off of the pregnancy checklist after all,” he had growled and Stiles, who had been sneaking glances at him every other minute, had relaxed a little, obviously concluding that Derek’s gruff tone meant he was indeed feeling better.

“Mark my words though Derek,” he had said when they were curled up in bed later and Derek was eating a bit of cold lasagna. “This is not going to happen again.”

As it turned out, Stiles’ idea of making sure that it would not happen again was to secretly set up a schedule for the pack, ensuring that one of them would be there at all times. He pretended to be annoyed by it as much as Derek was, but despite what his mate thought, he really wasn’t a great liar and never able to hide the pleased grin on his face when the next pack member showed up to replace the old one.

In a way, Derek understood his concern. The werewolves were able to move much faster than Stiles, had the strength to lift him up if necessary, and if they concentrated on him, they would be able to smell any sign of distress. They had been lucky that Scott had been there that evening – the thought of what could have happened if he had actually hit the ground hard still made him feel cold inside.

At the same time, it made him feel like a not-to-be-trusted child to know that his pack was taking up residence in their home because they essentially were on Catch-the-Fainting-Alpha Duty.

It was actually a relief to be able to get out of the house for a while when Melissa invited the entire pack for a little birthday get-together. Melissa’s house was one of the few places Derek could still go to without drawing attention and he was so eager to no longer feel watched in his own home that he would have jumped at the chance had he still been physically able to.

It was, as most pack affairs were these days, a relatively quiet party, with lots of food and lazy lounging in a variety of comfortable chairs. About halfway through the party Derek began to feel strangely exhausted and a bit achy in his thigh region, concluding that he should probably take a short nap.

Ignoring the concerned looks Jackson was throwing at him as he passed him by, Derek excused himself and slowly made his way up the stairs to Scott’s bedroom, which now served as a guest room.

He could hear his mate’s snort at Scott when the True Alpha commented that years ago it would have been quite weird to know Derek was sleeping in his bed as he opened the door and he was still grinning when he slowly lowered himself onto the covers. It would have been quite weird indeed.

He woke up about an hour later when a searing pain coursed through his groin and he groaned, assuming it was probably another Braxton Hicks. It wasn’t until the sharp pain came again that he began paying attention to the sticky fluid that was dripping down his legs and when he brushed his hand against the seat of his pants he was shocked to discover that it came back bloody.

Before he could compose himself enough to call for Melissa a spike of pain shot through him again, and although this one was not as intense as the last two, the blood on his fingers had scared him enough that he couldn’t stop himself from crying out in distress.  

The pack’s collective panic attack when he had felt the baby’s first movements was nothing compared to the reaction his cry of pain and fear garnered. In his haste to open the door Scott literally ripped it off its hinges, closely followed by Jackson and Stiles, who had somehow managed to beat the rest of the werewolves to him.

“You’re bleeding,” Stiles all but screamed when he got a good look at his mate, turning white as a sheet as he stumbled over to the bed. Scott climbed on the other side of the bed, one hand supporting Derek’s shoulder and the other pressed against his side, obviously assuming he had gone into labor and trying to lessen his pain.

In this half-upright position Derek could understand why his mate looked like he was about to faint – there was much more blood than he had thought and he paled himself, only halfway comforted by the baby’s steady heartbeat.

Scott and Stiles looked like they wanted to cry with relief when Melissa pushed past Jackson and Boyd and took in the scene, before firmly ordering everyone but Stiles out of the room. The Betas protested and she whirled around to fix them with a strict glare.

“I need to see what is going on here and I don’t think Derek wants all of you to see his privates,” she said and the werewolves relented, each of them looking extremely concerned and unhappy when they shuffled out the destroyed door.

“I’m so sorry Derek, but I need you to pull down your pants for me, we need to see where the bleeding is coming from,” Melissa said to Derek, the firmness in her voice gone and replaced by a comforting warmth. With shaking fingers Derek pushed down the shorts he had been wearing, followed by the bloody boxers and Melissa grabbed a pair of tissues from the nightstand, gently dabbing at his groin area.

Stiles’ hands were almost crushing Derek’s as he tried to see what was going on and both of their heart rates spiked when Melissa gasped.

“I’ll be damned,” she breathed, carefully wiping blood away from Derek’s entrance. An entrance that felt … alien.

“Melissa?” Derek asked, feeling nauseous as his mind provided him with a solution for Melissa’s shock.

“Please tell me that I did not just grow a birth canal. Please, please, _please_ tell me that in addition to these breasts I did not just grow a vagina.”

Melissa looked up with a sympathetic look. “Derek, honey,” she began and Derek interrupted her.

“No, not Derek honey, I’m a man, I _cannot_ have a vagina, please tell me I don’t – don’t you dare look,” he hissed at Stiles when his mate made efforts to move forward.

“I’m sorry Derek, I really am but … it’s definitely a birth-canal of some sort,” Melissa said gently and Derek dropped back against the pillows, wiping his eyes in defeat.

“What’s going to be next? Are my balls going to disappear? Is my penis going to shrink? I did not sign up for this! The breasts, ok, I can deal with that, men occasionally have breasts if they eat tons of crap, so that’s still acceptable, but this? No, this is unacceptable, that’s it, I’m done!” he exclaimed, not able to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes.

Next to him, Stiles reached out a hand to stroke his hair soothingly, thankfully not saying anything as Derek pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

“Derek listen to me,” Melissa said after she had finished cleaning the blood away from his legs and draped a towel over his groin.

“I don’t think it’s an actual vagina, I just think it’s a birth canal of some sorts. Alan and me were actually wondering if that was going to happen. We didn’t think so, but we thought about it and we actually think that this is better for the baby,” she said while stroking his arm and ignoring the angry look Stiles shot at her for keeping this possibility a secret from them.

“How is this better?!” Derek choked out and Melissa placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Even though you are a werewolf, a C-section would have been a traumatic event for both you and the child. They have to be performed if they are medically necessary, but there is a reason why a woman’s body was designed the way it was. Alan believes, and I agree with him, that the changes to your body are all happening for a reason and if you suddenly develop a birth canal, then that’s probably the best way for her to be born,” she said and Derek looked at her with wide eyes, fear evident in them.

“I am scared,” he admitted, holding onto Stiles’ hand tightly.

“I could deal with a C-Section, Deaton explained it to me in detail and it sounded like pain I could deal with, but this? I am a man, I was not built for this, what if I can’t do it?” he whispered and Melissa shook her head.

“You are a man, exactly, a man whose biology built him to be able to become pregnant. Don’t you think that if you can naturally conceive a child, you will be able to naturally birth a child?”

Stiles pressed a kiss to his temple. “She’s got a point Derek. Granted, we did not take Lamaze classes and you will probably break both of my hands when you start pushing, but I really don’t see any reason why we – why _you_ – should not be able to give birth to Sweetie Pie like this. Who cares if it’s through a magical birth canal or with the help of Deaton’s scalpel?” he said, obviously trying to mask his nerves.

Derek closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths and when he opened them again he looked much calmer, his instincts obviously already adapting to the change of plans. “The Christmas sweater was strike one,” he said, his hand resting on his belly protectively, “the breasts were strike two, but this, this takes the cake. She will be grounded throughout her entire teenage years – on the plus side, that means she won’t be able to date, so I don’t see any reason why this isn’t a perfect plan,” he said, his voice still sounding watery, but much more relaxed than before.

Stiles threw his head back and exploded with laughter, the tension in the room quickly evaporating. “If you want to ground anyone, it should be me, not poor Pie. I’m the one that put her in there in the first place,” he said and Melissa cleared her throat, giving them an amused look.

“No more details, please?” she said, getting up and rubbing her hands. “Now I’m going to go outside and tell your Betas and my destructive son, who will have to buy me a new door mind you, that you are not dying and the Princess is fine. Then we are going to get you in a car and drive you to Deaton, so he can check you over just to make sure,” she continued and Derek looked at her guiltily.

“I’m sorry for ruining your birthday party,” he said and Melissa shook her head.

“I’m getting a beautiful granddaughter in the next two weeks, as far as I’m concerned the celebration hasn’t even started yet,” she said, winking at them before walking out the door.

Derek inspected his bloody shorts with a sigh before pulling them on again while Stiles grabbed a fresh towel for the car-ride.

“Are you ok Derek?” he asked when he helped his mate down the stairs and Derek, who knew his mate really needed to hear it and also that all of his Betas were listening to him, smiled ruefully, a hint of insecurity lingering in his voice when he answered “I’m freaked out – but I will be fine. And so will the baby.”

 

=================

 

Since Derek had calmed down before they got to Deaton, he was actually able to fully appreciate the way his mother’s former emissary really lost his composure this time, sounding much more excited than he had a right to be over the newest addition to Derek’s biology.

Derek had not appreciated being poked and prodded like a science experiment, but at the same time he had wanted to be sure everything was in working order and when Deaton finally let them go, not without advising them to leave the birth canal alone as much as possible, both men had breathed a sigh of relief.

“I think Deaton thinks I’m a pervert,” Stiles complained on their drive back and Derek snorted.

“That might have to do with the fact that you were barely able to keep yourself from feeling up my new breasts right in front of his eyes back when I first grew them,” he responded, giving his mate a pointed glance.

“Still,” Stiles argued as they turned onto the road leading to their home, driving slowly to avoid Derek being jostled by the uneven ground, “it’s not like I was planning to stick my penis into your mangina as soon as we walked through the door. I just literally saw it drenched in blood two hours ago.”

Derek’s head shot towards him. “My what?” he asked incredulously.

“Your mangina”, Stiles repeated, sounding a bit sheepish. “Man boobs are moobs, so a manly vagina-thingie should be a mangina. We can’t call it birth canal, it sounds too clinical,” he said and Derek growled dangerously low.

“As far as I’m concerned we are going to pretend it does not even exist until the time comes when I actually have to use it and you just lost _all_ chances you ever had of actually checking it out up close, I hope you realize that,” he said slowly.

“I’m a horribly tactless mate, aren’t I?” Stiles said guilty and Derek huffed.

“It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

When they got to the house it was close to 9 PM and since they both felt exhausted by the eventful day, they retired for bed, neither particularly hungry. Derek was lying on his side and tried focusing on anything but the soreness between his legs – a side effect that came with one suddenly growing an extra hole in one’s groin Deaton had assured him, werewolf healing powers or not – when Stiles slipped in behind him and began massaging his lower back without being prompted.

“You realize what this means right?” he asked quietly and Derek turned his head questioningly.

“There are literally so many possible answers right now I am not even going to guess,” he responded and Stiles stroked his hip fondly.

“It means that Sweetie Pie is just about done and ready to come out,” he clarified his previous statement.

“I know,” Derek whispered, sounding nervous and excited at the same time.

“That means we really need to step up our game and agree on a name. It’s our first real task as parents and we can’t fail her that early already,” Stiles continued and Derek laughed.

“It’s not like it’s my fault we can’t agree on a name,” he said and Stiles scoffed.

“You suggested Laverne the other day, as if we were actually living in the fifties,” he pointed out and Derek shrugged.

“It’s not like Lenise, a name that sounds like a sneeze, is any better,” Derek argued back. 

“How about Leslie?” Stiles asked and Derek shook his head.

“Louise?” he suggested instead and Stiles pondered that for a second, before nodding slowly. “We can definitely put Louise in the ‘maybe’ pile,” he said, resuming his careful massage.

“Lilith?” he continued and Derek groaned.

“Stiles! For the last time, we said no names inspired by your favorite TV-shows. Besides, I thought anything resembling Lily was overdone? Also, I’m appalled that you would want to name our child after a demon,” he growled and Stiles nodded quickly.

“You’re right, you’re right. I did say that. How about Liberty?”

“Are we Hollywood actors?” Derek responded dryly and Stiles sighed. “Nope.”

They were silent for a couple of minutes before Stiles spoke up again.

“Promise you won’t hit me Derek, but how about Lupine?”

Derek scoffed loudly. “There is no universe in which we are naming our child Lupine. Even if there were a thousand parallel universes, she would not be named Lupine in any of them. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear,” Stiles confirmed, his tone suggesting that he hadn’t been serious anyways.

“Leanore?” he asked next and Derek cocked his head to the side, face deep in thought.

“I think I like that,” he said slowly, sounding amazed that they finally seemed to have found a name they both liked.

“Leanore Talia Claudia Hale,” Stiles said, excitement creeping up into his voice.

“It has a nice ring to it,” Derek said slowly, smile evident in his voice.

“Unless she comes out looking like someone else entirely, I think we just found our daughter’s name!” Stiles whispered excitedly and Derek turned slightly so he could look at Stiles’ face.

“I think we just did,” he confirmed, his lips capturing Stiles’ in a soft kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close y'all. Like, really close!
> 
> Next Up: 41 Weeks, featuring Derek, who's just absolutely over being pregnant and decides to take matters into his own hands, Stiles, who would really like to ... uhm ... help out, and a baby who's not cooperating ... until it suddenly is.


	10. 41 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 41 Weeks, featuring Derek, who's just absolutely over being pregnant and decides to take matters into his own hands, Stiles, who would really like to ... uhm ... help out, and a baby who's not cooperating ... until it suddenly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what guys, it's a Sunday - two updates in one day!

_41 Weeks – June 19 th 2023_

As he entered week 41 Derek knew one thing – he was _over_ being pregnant. The last two weeks had come and gone and despite Deaton and Melissa’s predictions that he would go into labor during that time their child was still safely nestled inside of him.

Two days after the appearance of the birth canal Stiles had brought home a DVD for Lamaze classes and because he had been bored out of his mind Derek had humored him and actually huffed and puffed along with the women in the video for half an hour before declaring that he had been impaled on metal stakes before and if he was able to breath through _that_ he would probably be able to get through a birth.

Stiles’ next brilliant idea had been to set up a birth plan, since their original plan had been altered somewhat dramatically. He had spent over two hours creating a birthing playlist and Derek, who realized that Stiles was getting increasingly nervous and was desperately trying to keep himself occupied as they waited for the first signs of labor, had been nice enough not to tell him that the last thing he would want while screaming in pain was a background soundtrack.

They had had one false alarm at the end of week 39, right in the middle of a pack meeting. Stiles had been opposed to having the meeting in the first place, arguing that Derek was too pregnant to be bothered with whatever pack relations were iffy at the moment, but Derek had disagreed resolutely, firmly stating that he would much rather have something to do then continue to twiddle his thumbs and wait for his insides to suddenly start tearing themselves apart.

Cora, who was done with school for the semester, had been right in the middle of defending herself against Erica’s accusations that her coffee date with the Berkeley pack’s messenger might have been a little too date-ish for everyone’s comfort, when Derek had suddenly dropped his glass of water and doubled over with a groan.

The pain had been strongest in his lower abdomen and his subsequent agonized whimper had sent his Betas into their third collective panic attack during this pregnancy. Derek knew they meant well, but he had felt extremely claustrophobic when all of them had crowded around him, hands touching him everywhere in their attempts to leach the pain away, barely leaving room for Stiles, which did nothing to help Derek’s distress.

Thankfully, Lydia had taken over, snapping at the werewolves to leave Derek alone and when he was no longer in pain and Stiles had finally managed to wrestle a panicky Scott away from the couch, she had crouched down in front of Derek with a comforting expression, telling everyone that there was no use in freaking out and they should better wait to see what would happen next.

The pain had returned shortly thereafter, again localized in his lower abdomen and Lydia had given him a calculating glance when he had clutched it with a grimace. “Does your back hurt at all?” she had asked and Derek had shaken his head.

“You should maybe try to get into another position then or do something else, I read that it can stop false labor and I think that’s what we might be dealing with here, considering that one way to tell false labor apart from real labor is that real labor usually starts in the lower back and then wraps around the abdomen,” she had explained and Derek had taken her advice, getting to his feet and walking around a little before lying down on the couch.

Although he was indeed no longer in pain by the end of the pack meeting, Derek was glad when everyone left. He appreciated their concern, but being constantly stared at in worry by nine people for two hours had left him decidedly on edge.

The next night Stiles had shaken him awake shortly after midnight, declaring that he had yet to send him on a midnight cravings run. Derek, who had been nauseous all day and absolutely wasn’t craving anything besides Alka Seltzer, had tried to get his mate to go back to sleep but Stiles was determined, worried that he was a horrible father-to-be for not having a tale of strange midnight cravings to tell.

Derek, who had been feeling really lousy and wanted to continue sleeping had finally snapped, telling Stiles he would leave him if he did not bring him a piece of chocolate cake from the Cheesecake Factory.

The nearest Cheesecake Factory restaurant was in San Francisco, an almost 3 hour drive from Beacon Hills, and Derek had hoped Stiles would get his not so subtly hidden meaning of “This is ridiculous, shut up and go back to sleep so I can get back to being nauseous in peace,” turning around with a grunt and squeezing his eyes shut.

When he had woken up with the need to use the bathroom an hour later Stiles’ side of the bed had been cold and his mate was nowhere in sight. When he still hadn’t returned two hours later Derek had become worried and by the time Stiles stumbled back into the house with a large Cheesecake Factory package, Derek had been exhausted, anxious, worried, and furious all at the same time.

Their argument had been cut short by Stiles opening the package and waving the delicious, rich chocolate cake in front of Derek’s face and, considering he had not been allowed sweets for almost 6 weeks, Derek had decided to forego the rest of his lecture on what could have happened if he had gone into labor with Stiles camping out in front of the Cheesecake Factory in San Francisco three hours away.

He would never know how Stiles had managed to get his hands on the cake at 3 in the morning exactly, but the sheepish look on the younger man’s face told him he probably did not even want to ask.

During the middle of his 40th week of being pregnant he had googled “What does it mean when there’s a freakishly large, yellowish, slimy, disgusting glob in my underwear” and after Deaton had managed to overcome his excitement over male Alpha werewolf mucus plugs, he had cautioned Derek to look out for early signs of labor, predicting that the baby was going to make an appearance soon.

However, when there was still no sign that the baby was getting ready to be born on the night of the 20th of June, one day after the last out of three approximate due dates Melissa and Deaton had calculated (three because he was a man, a werewolf, and didn’t have a cycle that would have allowed them to time it more specifically), Derek decided to take matters into his own hands.

No longer able to find a comfortable resting position anyways, he had spent the entire night researching natural methods to induce labor, again wondering what the nation’s surveillance agencies would make of their two-men household’s internet search history if they ever bothered to look.

Every site he had looked at cautioned expectant mothers to be careful when applying these methods and so he decided to go easy on himself, not trying out more than one method per day, although he really hoped it would only take one more day.

He had begun with walking on the morning of the 21st of June. It was a Wednesday, which meant that Isaac was keeping him company and the younger werewolf had voiced his concerns that Derek was exhausting himself all the way to the edge of the preserves and back. By noon Derek was sweating and his back and feet were killing him, however the child remained calm, for once not moving too much, although that probably had more to do with the fact that it had run out of room in the past three weeks. On the plus side, he was indeed so exhausted that he managed a restful sleep for six whole hours that night. On the downside, it had not had the desired effect at all.

On the 22nd of June Derek decided to try spicy food and talked a disapproving Lydia into going out and buying him extra-spicy take-out from his favorite Mexican restaurant. She had done so grudgingly, cautioning him against the very possible side effect of heartburn all the way through the meal and not even batting her eyelashes when he started to groan in discomfort about ten minutes after he had finished the food. Lydia rummaged for some anti-acids in their medicine cabinet and, not finding any, suggested he might treat his ineffective home remedies for starting labor with some just as ineffective natural remedies for heartburn.

“It’s not that I’m making fun of your pain, Derek,” she responded to the wounded look he gave her, “it’s just that sometimes I really wonder why you guys never listen to me when you _know_ I’m right.”

As a result, he had been chewing on some licorice coated in baking soda and feeling miserable, sticky, and huge when Stiles came home late at night, having attended an important business dinner that he had not been able to skip.

Stiles dropped his messenger bag on the bedroom floor and climbed behind him, muttering that he had also done some reading and learned that massages, or just cuddling with your partner in general, could start labor as well. The massage felt wonderful, the cuddling even better, and Derek soon fell asleep against his mate’s chest, feeling happier and no longer plagued by heartburn.

“I guess massages don’t really work either,” Stiles commented when his mate had woken up around six the next morning, still dressed in his work clothes and squished between Derek and the headboard of the bed. He ignored Derek’s concerned look when he stretched out his long limbs with a grimace.

“You were sleeping so peacefully for once, I wasn’t about to wake you up just so I could lie down,” he argued when Derek gently reprimanded him for not waking him and his mate sighed, unable to hide the fond smile on his face.

It was Jackson’s turn to keep him company on Friday, June the 23rd and the Beta had blushed when he had suggested trying acupressure to jump-start the birthing process, mumbling that he might have read up on that last night. For the next two hours Jackson, armed with his smart-phone, pinched and prodded different parts of Derek’s body and he finally conceded defeat when the battery of the phone died.

That night Stiles gave him a calculating look over their light dinner of salad and strawberries. “You know Derek,” he said softly, his fingers dancing against the tabletop nervously, “there is one strategy that’s supposed to be super-effective that we could actually try together.”

Derek’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “No,” he said simply, going back to his dinner.

“It’s just _really_ supposed to be effective,” Stiles continued, still not quite able to meet Derek’s gaze and Derek set his silverware down resolutely.

“You can’t even look me in the eye while you’re suggesting it, which to be honest, is really kind of a turn-off, and besides, we said we weren’t going to mention _it_ until I actually have to use it,” he said, giving his mate an annoyed glare.

“Alright, alright, forget I said anything,” Stiles said hastily, finally looking up to give Derek an embarrassed smile.

On the 24th of June, an extremely hot Saturday, Derek was truly getting desperate. He felt exhausted, achy, swollen all over, and incredibly restless, and the constant worried glances Stiles was shooting in his direction were not helping either.

Despite his good intentions of only trying one method per day he decided to up his efforts, forcing Stiles into a half an hour walk with him while he nibbled on a small piece of cayenne pepper-chocolate. Stiles had protested sharply, cautioning Derek against the ever present danger of overheating and dehydration, but Derek had insisted, aware that he was being foolish and deeply regretting his stubbornness when he spent the next four hours sprawled all over the couch in exhaustion, occasionally being roused by Stiles who reminded him to keep drinking water.

His back was trying to literally kill him, Derek decided when he pushed himself off the couch around the middle of the afternoon and Stiles finally broke and called Melissa, who arrived with “Acupressure for Dummies” about half an hour later. It did nothing to jumpstart labor, but Derek did feel slightly better after being treated for almost an hour.

No longer feeling shy in front of his quasi-mother in law, Derek had stripped off his shirt and rested on his side, relaxing as Melissa applied some massage techniques that could also potentially start labor. Derek wasn’t sure how effective these techniques actually were, but the cool lotion felt good on his straining, yet surprisingly smooth skin.

He would have taken stretch marks in stride without complaining – probably – but he was nevertheless extremely grateful that this was the one thing that his healing abilities were not ignoring.

He had felt big when he had no longer been able to see his privates, had felt incredibly large when his feet had disappeared from his eye line, the only proof of their existence the occasional pain caused by the swelling, and he still blushed when he remembered how he had pretty much gotten stuck in the Camaro a couple of weeks ago, but now he felt like he had not only swallowed one whole watermelon but two, plus a little Cantaloupe for shits and giggles.

Supposedly some of it was water-weight, which Derek found quite ironic, wondering how he could possibly retain _any_ water with the high frequency of his bathroom visits. Yet for all the soreness and the uncomfortable itching caused by all the stretching, Derek’s skin was still very smooth, a testament to his healing powers, and he was grateful, certain that without them, his stomach would have been littered with angry red lines by now.

When Melissa left them in the early evening, she discreetly pushed a little bottle into Derek’s hands and thanks to his research he did not even have to go online to know what it was.

“Evening Primrose Oil?” Stiles read off the label half an hour later and Derek shrugged.

“It’s supposed to relax the cervix I guess,” he said, slowly making his way into their bedroom and joining Stiles on the bed.

“Do you have to drink it?” Stiles asked and Derek shook his head, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment.

“There are capsules you can take orally, but as far as I know the oil has to be rubbed …”

“… into the cervix,” Stiles continued for him, a tiny grin on his face. “That sounds easy,” he continued and Derek grabbed the bottle from him, shooting a warning glare at his mate.

Stiles busied himself with some papers for work, trying his best to ignore what was going on next to him and he couldn’t help but smile when Derek finally sighed.

“Do you think you could help me? I have no clue what it even looks like and it’s … weird,” he finished, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I can,” Stiles said gently, putting his papers on the nightstand and positioning himself between Derek’s spread legs. It was the first time Derek had allowed him a good look at his altered groin-area and although he would have been lying if he had claimed that the sight did not weird him out a little, his fascination with what Derek’s body could do outweighed any awkwardness.

He dipped his finger into the bottle and hovered around the area, looking at his mate for approval that he was actually allowed to touch and Derek nodded impatiently, trying to relax against the pillows when Stiles began to gently rub the oil into the opening.

“You need to relax Derek, I don’t want to hurt you,” Stiles murmured, his finger moving carefully and Derek sighed, willing his body not to fight the intrusion.

“You know,” he continued, his free hand stroking the inside of Derek’s thigh lightly, “there are other ways in which I could rub the oil into your cervix,” he finished softly and Derek closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it in the past couple of days, aware that it might prove more effective than walking and spicy food, but he still found the idea to be weird. He had come to accept the birth canal as a part of him that made it possible to give birth to the baby naturally, aware that it wasn’t a real vagina and thus didn’t make him a woman, but he still wondered what Stiles hoped to gain from this.

“Why are you so intent on doing this?” he asked, deciding to voice his concerns and Stiles, who had removed his hands and wiped them on a towel, rested them against his thighs lightly.

“I don’t really know? It just feels like we should, you know? I mean, I’ve seen enough educational videos,” (they both grinned at the term), “to know that this is not like a woman’s so it doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly wishing you were a woman or anything like that. It’s just – Derek, we haven’t been able to have sex in weeks and I _miss_ you, I miss feeling you like that and if we can do this _and_ have the added bonus of setting things in motion here then heck yeah, I’m all for it!” He gently nipped at the inside of Derek’s thigh, pleased with the shudder than ran through the older man’s frame.

Derek took in the honesty in his face, the love and adoration shining out of his mate’s eyes and he stroked his swollen belly lightly, yearning for it to be replaced with their baby. When Stiles nipped at his thighs again and he felt the arousal course through him, he decided that yes, he could do it this once.

“Be gentle,” he instructed the younger man and Stiles smiled.

“That’s a given,” he responded, framing Derek’s stomach with both hands. “How do you … I mean, you can’t go on all fours obviously, and I’m terrified I’ll crush you if I’m on top of you, so …”

“I’ll lie on my side,” Derek said, rolling over and spreading his legs a little, to make the access easier for Stiles. Stiles’ penis was slick when he positioned himself behind Derek, grasped his hips and slowly pushed in – the oil, Derek reminded himself.

“Is this ok?” Stiles asked, sounding an intoxication mixture of turned on and unsure, and Derek pushed back against him as much as he could, his hand reaching behind him to pull Stiles closer.

“Feels good,” he muttered, surprised at the strange, but not unwelcome sensation and Stiles became a bit bolder, his thrusts still gentle but with more force behind them. His hand moved away from Derek’s hips and down towards his erection, grasping his shaft and stroking firmly and Derek moaned at the sudden increase in pleasure. He came before Stiles and it took another four or five thrusts before his mate stiffened behind him, moaning softly through his own release.

“That was … different,” Derek commented when they had cleaned up and were spooned against each other, Stiles once again pressed against his back.

“I think I just deflowered you,” Stiles commented sleepily and Derek chuckled.

“It’s a little late for that,” he responded, grinning when Stiles pressed closer against his back.

“I imagine it would have been even better for you if you had actually grown a clitoris as well,” Stiles yawned behind him and Derek shook his head with an amused smile.

“I think I’m good with just penis-stimulation,” he grinned and he could barely make out Stiles’ mumbled “And a magnificent, sonnet-inspiring penis it is,” response before his mate began to lightly snore behind him.

With Stiles fast asleep next to him, Derek traced his fingers over his taut flesh, cataloging each sensation and listening to the baby’s heartbeat, focusing on each little ache and committing the shape of his body under his hands to his memory.

He wasn’t sure if he would ever experience this again and although he was yearning to no longer be pregnant, he suddenly felt a bit sentimental. The past 35 weeks ever since they had found out about the baby had not been the easiest thing he had ever done, but he felt grateful that he was actually able to do this, able to create a family with the man he loved most and although he had moaned and complained on occasion, he knew that the baby was worth any and all discomforts he had endured.

“I know you’re ready sweetheart,” he whispered, quietly so he wouldn’t wake Stiles. “Don’t let us wait any longer.”

 

==================

 

When Derek woke up about four hours after finally falling asleep, the clock next to his side of the bed read 2:45 AM, Sunday, June 25th. With a sigh he pushed himself up to go to the bathroom, for once not really feeling the need but assuming that was why he had woken up.

His stomach felt even heavier than usually when he slowly made his way to the toilet, his hands kneading into his aching back. As expected his bladder was nearly empty and he rested his forehead against the cool tiles, feeling tired and yet alert at the same time. He frowned when he caught sight of his face in the mirror as he made his way back into their bedroom, admiring the black shadows under his eyes. He really needed to get some more sleep, well aware of Melissa’s advice to sleep as much as he could before the birth.

He had just settled himself back on the bed when the ache in his back suddenly got worse, shooting all the way through to his midsection like a hot spark. It was gone as soon as it had come and when the pain dulled back to the familiar ache in the small of his back, Derek tried to relax. It was probably just another one of these in hindsight not so unnecessary after all Braxton Hicks contractions.

However, lying down did not make him feel better and he got up again, moving as quietly as possible to the window and staring out into the darkness, one hand pushed against the underside of his heavy belly to take some of the pressure off of his back and the other kneading into his spine.

He bit back a groan when the pain intensified again and his belly contracted painfully under his hand, trying to breath the uncomfortable sensation away as best as he could. There had been approximately 30 minutes between the first spike of pain and this one and Derek looked at the clock, which now read 3:20. He decided to wait, unsure whether he should wake Stiles or not, and when the next wave of pain hit him at 3:49 it was so strong that he doubled over, barely able to hold on to the windowsill and no longer able to bite back the loud groan that escaped him.

It seemed to go on for hours and out of the corner of his eye he could see Stiles sitting up groggily, mumbling “Derek?” before he suddenly snapped awake at the sight of his mate barely able to keep himself upright next to the window, shooting out of the bed and standing next to Derek within seconds.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked when Derek was able to breath again and Derek turned towards the younger man, holding onto his shoulders and pressing his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent to calm him.

Stiles was holding him up as best as he could with one hand, while the other was kneading his lower back to ease the tension and Derek was grateful that his normally panicky mate was completely calm for once, his presence an anchor of strength for the werewolf.

Stiles held him through the next contraction and although his heart rate went up slightly, his breathing remained mostly calm, allowing Derek to concentrate on something other than the blinding pain in his lower body.

“I think this is it,” he gasped when the pain had faded again and it was only because he was paying attention that he didn’t miss the slight hitch in Stiles’ breath.

“You’re going to have our baby,” Stiles said, his voice sounding both awed and terrified. “I’m going to call Deaton and Melissa,” he continued, helping Derek sit back down on the bed and kissing his damp forehead before he made his way down the stairs.

While his mate was making the call downstairs, Derek tried to breathe deeply, his hands cradling his throbbing belly.

“That wasn’t so bad Pie,” he muttered, listening to the baby’s slightly quickened heartbeat.

“I think I can do this. Just hurry up please, we really want to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: It's a ...


	11. It's a ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a ...

_The Birth – June 25 th 2023_

After Deaton had determined the birth canal to be in perfectly functioning order, Derek had insisted that they would be having the baby at home, refusing to listen to Stiles’ concerns on the matter.

“We can’t go to the hospital obviously and if I can avoid it in any way I am _not_ going to give birth to our baby on a steel table in an _animal_ clinic,” he had declared with finality.

Stiles had calmed down after a long talk with Melissa, who had informed both of them about the possible risks of a home birth and they had finally reached the compromise that Scott would be on standby in the clinic, ready to spring into action if they suddenly had to move Derek to the animal hospital.

Deaton made it to their home around 4:45 AM and Melissa followed him ten minutes later, looking wide-awake and impossibly excited.

“I have assisted during many births in my professional career and also given birth to a particularly large-headed baby myself, don’t worry, we’ve got this,” she said when Stiles opened the door, smiling fondly at the terrified look on his face.

Deaton was already writing into his little notebook furiously when Melissa walked into the bedroom and she shook her head in exasperation before moving over to Derek, who was looking a little annoyed that he was expected to deliver a minute-by-minute report of the labor process so far.

“I am going to check how you are doing honey,” she said, patting his knees soothingly and Derek pulled down his boxers with some effort, wincing when the movement made his back cramp up again.

“Two centimeters,” Melissa announced soon after and Derek groaned.

“That’s not really good at all, is it?” he lamented and Melissa chuckled in sympathy.

“It’s not bad either, it just means that this will probably take a while,” she said, moving around the bed so she could check Derek’s vitals. “Don’t you worry though, that is normal for a first birth,” she continued and Deaton nodded, already writing down the new information into his little notebook.

“Since your contractions are only thirty minutes apart at this point, you should try to rest between each of them, you will need the strength later,” Melissa suggested, helping Derek to lie back down on his side and gently massaging his back.

“The same goes for you Dad,” she directed at Stiles, who was currently hovering at the side of the bed, indicating for him to get back into the bed next to Derek. “We’ll be downstairs and I’ll be up to check on Derek’s progress every now and then. Try to rest,” she repeated, giving Deaton a strict glare when he seemed unsure whether he should leave the room or not.

“Try resting my ass,” Stiles huffed when he curled up next to Derek, his hand kneading into the older man’s aching back. “How am I supposed to rest when you’re in pain and Sweetie Pie is just about to be born?” he asked his mate, who only grunted in response.

“As long as you let _me_ rest,” he snapped irritably and Stiles’ hand on his back stilled before he removed himself to give Derek some space, sighing softly when he said, “Alright.”

This time it took almost 40 minutes until the next contraction hit and when it did, Derek almost arched off the bed before curling in on himself, softly whimpering in agony and Stiles’ hands immediately began massaging his back again, holding his trembling mate through the pain.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Derek breathed out when it was over and Stiles drew him into a firm embrace, pushing his nose into Derek’s neck.

“I thought you would have already castrated me at this point, I can take a little snapping,” he muttered and Derek squeezed one of his hands tightly, not even letting go when the next contraction tore through his lower body and left him gasping for air.

“Why is he in so much back-pain? I thought it would mostly be stomach pain” Stiles asked Melissa four hours later, wincing in sympathy when she declared Derek to be only four centimeters dilated.

“It’s called back-labor,” Melissa replied while pressing a damp cloth against Derek’s sweaty forehead. “It could be the reason for the slow progress but it’s not a cause for concern,” she added hastily when Derek groaned in distress.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to get you off your back though,” she addressed Derek, directing Stiles to help her push the werewolf into a sitting position. “I know you’re tired, but being on your back is only going to make this worse. It might be caused by the baby’s position, so you should try walking around a little, maybe do some squatting and lunging if you can, that could help reposition the baby. If that doesn’t work, there’s always a warm bath and applying some counter-pressure,” she explained.

For the next two hours Derek walked up and down the house, listening to Cora’s tales from school and occasionally interrupted by another contraction. His sister had shown up at the house about half an hour into the walking exercise, claiming some supernatural auntie senses and Derek had been grateful for the distraction.

Cora was concerned, but she didn’t smell as nervous as Stiles did, and as much as he loved his mate, Derek was glad to have another member of his family there, even if he would have preferred his mother. Of course he also appreciated having another werewolf in the house for her pain-dulling abilities, but neither Derek nor Deaton were surprised to discover that labor pains seemed to be the only pain a werewolf could not leach away.

“It’s the circle of life,” Derek muttered under his breath and Stiles shot him a nervous glance, relaxing visibly when, unlike the last time Derek had been making _Lion King_ references, it was not followed by a crying fit.

No one would ever know if it was supernatural instincts or the fact that Scott just couldn’t keep secrets if he tried, but somehow the entire pack had been alerted that Derek was finally in labor and Jackson and Lydia showed up on their front porch around 1 PM, when Derek was trying some lounges in the back yard.

“We thought we should bring food,” Jackson began only to be interrupted by Lydia, who added that she wasn’t sure if food would be a good idea right now, looking at Melissa questioningly.

“Mostly Jackson wanted to see if there was anything we could do,” Lydia continued, nodding at her nervous boyfriend who had tensed when he heard a pained groan coming from the direction of the back yard.

“I’m sure Stiles, Cora, and Alan will appreciate the food,” Melissa said, clapping Jackson’s shoulders comfortingly when the Beta looked like he could barely keep himself from sprinting to Derek’s side.

“I don’t know if Derek will be able to keep it down, but I could certainly use a snack, we’ve been at this since 5 AM,” she said and Lydia cocked her head.

“That’s eight hours,” she calculated quickly, frowning in concern. “Are you sure he’s doing ok? I thought it would be quicker since, you know, werewolf powers and all,” she continued and Melissa shrugged.

“His vitals are good, the baby doesn’t sound like she’s in distress, and he’s progressing, it’s just a bit slower than we all would have hoped. But so far I’m not concerned and neither should you be,” she promised, taking the food from them and inhaling the savory smell.

“Now, if you want to make yourself helpful, you could tell the rest of the pack to sit tight and wait for news. I know Derek and Stiles appreciate the concern, but really, the best you can do is to let them have this baby in peace, with as little commotion as possible. You could join Scott at the clinic if you want, if I know my son at all he is about to drive Allison stir-crazy by pacing up and down the exam room,” she added, smiling fondly when Jackson all but dragged Lydia back to his car.

As Melissa had predicted, Cora and Deaton were highly appreciative of the food and after some convincing, Stiles took a plate as well, joining Melissa, Cora, and Deaton at the dining room table, while Derek walked up and down the living room with a pained grimace.

“I’m actually hungry,” he said between two contractions, sounding surprised when his stomach rumbled. “I haven’t eaten in almost 18 hours,” he continued and Melissa crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s your choice Derek,” she said, grabbing a small plate. “It might make you feel better, but it could also make you nauseous and cause you to throw up during the next contractions,” she continued and Derek thought about it for a second before he shrugged and reached for the plate.

“It’s not like I’m not used to nausea and throwing up at this point and I’m really hungry,” he said, barely able to pace himself when the rich flavor of the spinach casserole hit his taste buds.

“Eating during labor will most likely cause nausea and vomiting,” Deaton wrote down in his little black notebook about an hour later, wincing at the pained groans coming from the bathroom.

“That was a really bad idea,” Derek said when he walked back into the living room and sat down on the birthing ball Isaac had brought by earlier, having used his werewolf skills to swipe it from the hospital.

Melissa responded by placing a cool towel on his forehead and flashing a quick “I told him so,” glance at Stiles while Derek wasn’t looking.

When Derek was about seven centimeters dilated, his back throbbed constantly, making him groan in pain even when he wasn’t having contractions and Melissa decided that a warm bath might help, cautioning that it could also slow down the laboring process.

Derek was in too much pain to weigh the pros and cons and he sank into the warm water with a sigh, leaning back against Stiles who had gotten into the bathtub with him. Stiles’ fingers continued to massage his back and for a while the constant throbbing began to lessen, allowing Derek to take a little nap against his mate’s chest.

Since he wasn’t really awake the next contraction caught him by surprise and he screamed, not able to transform the need to scream into a groan in time. Stiles tightened his hold on him and when the contraction was over, he urged Derek to get out of the bathtub, helping him into the thin bathrobe before calling for Cora’s help in moving him back to their bed.

“Can you stay here for a bit, I need to call my dad,” Stiles said to Cora and both werewolves looked at each other, clearly aware that he was hovering on the edge of a panic attack.

Stiles did not even wait for their response and all but fled the bedroom, stumbling past Melissa, who had come up to check Derek’s progress, and rushing past Deaton, who tried to stop him to ask what the scream had meant. When he was in the kitchen he splashed water against his face, damp fingers shaking when he grabbed his phone and speed-dialed his father.

“I was waiting to hear from you ever since Melissa texted me 11 hours ago, is she here?” John greeted him and Stiles inhaled shakily.

“No, she’s not here yet,” he breathed, feeling a flash of guilt for not having called his father sooner. “Dad, Derek’s in pain, he’s screaming, and I can’t watch anymore, I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered, his voice trembling and he could hear the scrape of a chair when his father stood up from his desk at the office.

“Do you want me to calm you down on the phone or do you need me to come over?” he asked and although it made Stiles feel horribly inadequate to beg his dad to come help him when he was about to become a father himself, he just couldn’t stop himself, feeling like he could hardly breathe when another pained scream rang through the house.

Although he wanted nothing more than to run away so he could not longer hear his mate’s pain his instincts all but dragged him back up the stairs and into the bedroom, where he was greeted with a shaking Derek who was on the verge of tears and a severely annoyed Cora.

“Way to go _Dad_ ,” she hissed when he replaced her at Derek’s side and he gave her a glare that was both guilty and frustrated, focusing his attention on Derek who was slowly calming down, holding onto Stiles as if he was a lifeline.

“Don’t leave,” Derek whispered and Stiles squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“I’m a really sorry excuse for a mate sometimes but I’m not leaving, I promise,” he said, stroking his hand through Derek’s wet hair.

“My dad’s coming over though, is that ok?” he asked and Derek nodded, whimpering through another back spasm.

“As long as he doesn’t look,” he said when he felt in control again and Stiles laughed shakily.

“Oh trust me, I think he can do without that as well.”

When Sheriff Stilinski walked into the house twenty minutes later he brought popsicles, claiming that these had worked wonders for Claudia during Stiles’ birth and Derek accepted his gratefully, sighing when the cool ice soothed his chapped lips.

Having been briefed by Cora about Stiles’ scandalous almost-bailing as soon as he walked through the door, John took his nervous son aside while Melissa checked on Derek again, reminding him that if one had the balls to father a baby, one better man up to be there for the mother during the birth, regardless of whether said mother was female or a hairy male Alpha werewolf with impressive eyebrows.

Like Melissa, the Sheriff was a bit concerned but mostly excited, and his presence in the house proved to have a calming effect on both expecting parents.

The contractions were getting stronger and came more often now, the interval between them decreasing to 15, then 10, then 5 minutes, and although every single pained groan and choked sob coming from his mate pierced Stiles’ heart, he stayed put at his side, either rubbing his back or trying to distract him with more or less useless facts about childbirth.

Stiles wasn’t sure how many different birthing customs he had researched in preparation for their child’s arrival, but Derek did not seem to appreciate any of them and he finally gave up, allowing himself to be pulled into an animated discussion his father and Cora were having about college basketball.

He was not prepared when Derek, right in the middle of a contraction, suddenly started to growl.

“What’s wrong, can you sense danger, is anyone approaching?” Stiles asked frantically, looking at Cora, who concentrated and then shook her head, the look on her face just as confused as his.

“That’s it!” Derek growled when the contraction was finally over, his hands balled into fists and a thunderous look on his face.

“What?” Stiles asked, trying to wipe Derek’s face and not really surprised when Derek swatted him away.

“That’s it, I’m done!” Derek clarified and the stubborn, determined expression on his face was almost enough to convince Stiles he meant it.

“Derek, uhm, no? You’re not done just yet,” Stiles argued, looking helplessly at Melissa, who had just entered the room and was obviously trying to hide a smile.

“Yes Stiles, I’m done! I’m not doing this anymore. I’m a werewolf, I have claws, there is no sane reason why I should be trying to push something that feels like a watermelon through a hole that’s barely 8 centimeters wide.” He shook his head, his expression willing Stiles to see the madness.

“Do you even hear how crazy that sounds? Pushing a watermelon out of an 8 centimeters hole? A hole, that’s not even supposed to be there so no one really knows if it will even _open_ wide enough to let the watermelon through? It’s insane, that’s what it is, which is why I’m going to use my claws to tear her out. Compared to this bullshit it probably won’t even _hurt_!” Derek argued, and Stiles paled when he saw his mate’s fingernails actually sharpen into claws.

He only had a nanosecond to pray that his decision would not result in a loss of fingers when Stiles rushed to grab one of Derek’s hands, while an alarmed Cora held the other in a vice-like grip.

“No Derek, no!” she yelled at her brother, “you are going to hurt the baby if you tear your claws into your stomach, are you crazy?!”

“Don’t try to claw our baby out of your stomach, you’ll hurt both yourself and her!” Stiles begged frantically, wincing when Derek’s sharp claws dug into his sensitive skin and barely able to fight Derek’s werewolf strength even though he was using two hands and all of his weight to keep him from touching his stomach, grateful that Derek was significantly weakened by his exhaustion.

There was no telling what could have happened had he been in his prime fighting condition.

The Sheriff’s hands suddenly appeared next to his, pushing down onto Derek’s biceps and elbow and even though it made him feel like a horrible mate all over again, Stiles was glad when the next contraction hit Derek and he screamed, the pain so strong that it made the claws retract.

Derek was breathing heavily when it was over, his eyes clenched shut and when he opened them again he blinked slowly, almost as if he was coming out of a daze.

“Why are you holding me down like an animal?” he rasped when he had regained his breath and Stiles laughed shakily, leaning over to press a kiss against his mate’s forehead.

“Do you still want to go all Stephenie Meyer on our poor, innocent daughter?” he asked, and Derek’s eyes widened in shock.

“What in the world just happened?” he asked and Stiles shook his head, still shaking a little from seeing his mate lose it like that.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Derek’s water finally broke around 8 PM that evening and Melissa immediately appeared at his side to check his progress.

“I thought it would come gushing out of you, like it does in the movies, that little trickle was really anticlimactic,” Cora commented helpfully and both Derek _and_ Stiles growled at her in response, while the Sheriff shook his head in amusement.

“You are almost at nine centimeters, it’s almost go time,” Melissa announced around 10 PM and Derek groaned, shifting uncomfortably against the soaked sheets.

“I feel like we should bet on whether she’ll be born on the 25th or on the 26th of June,” Cora mused, lifting her hands up in apology when everyone glared at her reproachfully.

Between the next two contractions Sheriff Stilinski changed the sheets of the bed quickly, having taken pity on Derek’s uncomfortable grimace whenever he moved into a particularly sticky spot.

Derek was being held up by both Stiles and Cora while they waited for the Sheriff to be done and it took both of their strengths to keep him upright when the next contraction tore through him, forcing him to double over as he screamed louder than he had throughout the entire process.

Within seconds Melissa was at his side, her hands carefully feeling his belly and when they had finally gotten him to lie down again she checked his cervix quickly, a look of excitement coming over her face when she announced that he was fully dilated and ready to push.

“We’ll be outside if anyone needs us,” the Sheriff said calmly, dragging a protesting Cora out of the room and as promised Deaton slipped into the background, the only sign that he was there coming from the occasional scribbling into his notebook and his calm breathing.

“When the next contraction hits you should feel the need to push,” Melissa said firmly, taking Derek’s hand and squeezing it gently. “I need you to listen to me while I talk you through this, push when I tell you to push and stop when I tell you to stop. She’s lying in the correct position now and she should be here within the hour,” she said encouragingly, excitement mostly kept in check by medical professionalism.

The next contraction began and Derek grabbed the back of his thighs to steady himself and pushed with all his might, biting his lips so hard he drew blood. His vision became red and suddenly Stiles was in front of him, his hands framing his face and talking to him, his voice calm and steady. Derek slowly regained control of himself, feeling his fangs retract and realizing with a jolt that he had almost wolfed out, despite the intense pain he was in.

“Focus on me, Derek, mate, love, don’t wolf out on me, Sweetie Pie needs you to stay focused for her,” Stiles repeated again and again and Derek nodded, inhaling deeply and resting his damp forehead against the pillow.

Pushing a baby out of a tiny, previously non-existent birth canal was worse than wolfsbane poisoning, Derek decided after the next push.

“It’s good that we’re not naming her Lacey,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath, and Stiles looked at him in confusion, his hand gripping Derek’s tightly.

“Huh?” he said and Derek winced when his back began to cramp up again.

“If she was a Lacey, we would need to have at least two more that we could name Stacey and Tracey, and I am never … ever … doing this … again,” he ground out between clenched teeth, interrupted by the next contraction and Stiles’ startled laugh turned into a pained moan when he squeezed the human’s hand tightly.

Derek was drenched in sweat and trying to get ready for the next contraction, when Stiles suddenly panicked next to him.

“Oh my god, Derek!” he almost yelled, his face looking stricken.

“What?!” Derek gasped; his eyes squeezed shut when he tensed up again.

“What if it is a boy after all? We don’t have a name!”

“Stiles!” Melissa exclaimed from between Derek’s legs, looking at her quasi-son as if she wanted to throttle him. “ _Not_ the right time!” she continued, and Derek groaned loudly, hunching over and putting his energy into another push.

“It’s a little late for that now,” he gasped when it was over, falling back against the pillows and wheezing.

“No, no, no,” Stiles babbled, “he can’t be born without us having a name for him, he’ll be in therapy for years!” he argued and somehow Derek found the energy to growl.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, I give up, if it’s a boy we’ll just call him Jacob John, I … don’t … care!” he began, the last word turning into a scream as he was overcome by another contraction.

“I can see the head,” Melissa announced after it was over and all thoughts of name-disasters and therapy were forgotten as both Deaton and Stiles joined her at the foot of the bed, staring in fascination and – in Stiles’ case – complete and utter awe at the proceedings.

“Just one more,” Melissa encouraged Derek after the next contraction and when he felt the urge to push Derek threw back his head and howled, feeling like he was being torn in two and not knowing anything but pain, pain, pain. Stiles was gasping next to him and suddenly it was over, the insane pressure between his legs gone as if it had never been there.

Derek inhaled deeply and forced himself to open his eyes, exhaling shakily when the baby’s first cry rang through the room.

“Boys,” Melissa said, sounding like she was barely able to hold back tears, “it really _is_ a girl!”

Time seemed to slow down and then stand still completely when the mewling, red-faced little girl was placed on Derek’s skin, his hands cradling her tiny body protectively. She was wrinkled, covered in all kinds of ambiguous fluids and her head was shaped a little like a cone, proof of the long, hard labor and her journey through the birth canal.

She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and when she opened her tiny eyes and flashed him a golden werewolf greeting, Derek almost forgot to breath. He shifted her a little; careful to support her tiny head and when she caught his finger in a strong grip Derek completely lost his heart.

His eyes were swimming with tears when he looked at his mate. Stiles probably mirrored his appearance, dark circles under his eyes, his hair in a mess, tears pouring down his cheeks and smiling as if he wanted to kiss the entire world.

“Hello Sweetie Pie,” he whispered, reaching out a shaking finger to touch their daughter’s tiny little cheek. “I _knew_ you were a little girl, I just knew it. You’re here, you’re finally here,” he continued, bending down to press a soft kiss onto her tiny head. “I love you,” he said to her father, kissing Derek softly and Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’, his eyes never leaving the baby in his arms.

“She seems to be healthy, but I would nevertheless like to check just to be sure,” Melissa said from somewhere in the background and Derek handed her over reluctantly, his eyes following Melissa’s every move when she and Deaton bent over the baby to test her reflexes.

“Derek?” Stiles whispered, lifting up one of his hands and placing kiss after kiss on his knuckles.

“She’s not a Leanore,” Derek said automatically, smiling softly at the surprised look on his mate’s face.

“I know,” he said, his eyes going wide when Melissa brought the baby over to them again and motioned for him to hold up his arms.

“Be careful with her head Daddy,” she reminded him, before shushing Deaton out the door to give the new parents some alone time.

Derek would always remember the expression on Stiles’ face when he first held their daughter, the way his eyes lit up when she grabbed his thumb and wrapped him around her tiny little finger forever.

“You really aren’t a Leanore, Sweetie Pie,” Stiles said, his voice sounding a bit congested from all the crying and Derek pushed himself up with a small groan, wincing at the tiny bit of discomfort that remained after the birth.

“She’s not a Leanore,” he agreed, a soft smile on his face when he took in their daughter’s tiny face. “She’s a Leonie,” he whispered and Stiles looked at him in wonder.

“Leonie?” he asked and Derek nodded.

“It means lioness,” he continued, holding up his hands and smiling at the baby when Stiles placed her back into his arms.

“Not that she’s a werelioness or anything, this baby is clearly a werewolf,” he mused, “but that’s her name and I don’t know why we didn’t realize it sooner.”

Stiles carefully sat down next to him, his arm cradling the small baby along with Derek’s. “Leonie Talia Claudia Hale,” he whispered, repeating it a bit louder and laughing in surprise when the baby’s eyelids fluttered open and she flashed golden eyes at her parents.

“She agrees,” Derek said and Stiles pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Who said a werewolf couldn’t be a lioness – after all, it really _is_ the circle of life, right?” he grinned.

Derek laughed, wincing a little when the movement jostled his sensitive stomach. “If anyone ever asks, we did _not_ name our daughter after _The Lion King_ ,” he said firmly and Stiles grinned even wider, feeling like he would never stop grinning for the rest of his life.

“That’s our story and we’re sticking to it!”

Derek suddenly groaned, shifting when his abdomen cramped up again. “Melissa?” he called softly, afraid to wake their sleeping daughter and Melissa came in quietly, taking in the uncomfortable look on his face and nodding for Stiles to take the baby.

The delivery of the afterbirth was relatively uneventful if a bit gross and both men shook their heads adamantly when Melissa asked if they wanted to keep it.

“I read that some women dry it and then eat it,” Stiles commented, a little green at the thought and Derek rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

“Thankfully we are not ‘some women’, right?” he said and Stiles nodded.

“That we aren’t.”

“There you go,” Melissa suddenly chuckled, squeezing Derek’s knees in fond amusement. “Your werewolf healing is already kicking into action, all that moaning about running through life as a man with a magical birth canal was for naught,” she said and Derek reached down his hand experimentally, sighing in relief when everything felt just like it should, no extra holes or anything, even though he was still a little sore.

Stiles pressed another kiss to Leonie’s forehead. “There you go Pie, you are not going to spend your teenage years grounded after all,” he told her conspiratorially.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings and when Melissa opened it, the Sheriff peaked his head in curiously, his eyes suspiciously moist and full of pride. He tiptoed into the room quietly, followed by Cora and Deaton, and made grabby hands at the baby.

“I feel like we haven’t been introduced yet,” he said, and Stiles handed her to him, actually puffing out his chest when he proudly declared “Meet Leonie Talia Claudia Hale, born on …”

He stopped with a frown, looking at Deaton and Melissa in confusion. “I’m not even sure when she was born. Does that make me a bad parent already?” he asked and Deaton grinned.

“It makes you an involved parent, I’d say,” he said, taking out his book and checking his notes. “If we had actually placed bets, Cora would have won, because this little lady was indeed born at 0:02 on Monday, June 26th,” he announced.

Derek sighed when he did the math in his head, leaning against his beaming sister who had joined him on the bed and hugged him as carefully as a bear-hug allowed.

“That means I was in labor for almost 22 hours,” he announced, giving Stiles a stern look, its intensity only slightly lessened by the dark shadows under his eyes and the fact that he was still smiling. “How do you feel about castration and Leonie being an only-child?” he continued dryly and Stiles shrugged with a happy grin.

“You’d miss my balls eventually,” he declared, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his father and Cora’s grimace.

“And besides, who needs more children when you manage to get a perfect one on the first try?”

 

=================

 

It was late in the afternoon when Melissa allowed their friends to come visit the newest member of the pack. Scott and Allison were the first to arrive and Scott wrapped Stiles in a teary-eyed hug while Allison tiptoed over to Derek, looking at the baby with fascination.

“I have to say, your breasts are _gorgeous_ ,” Allison whispered into his ear, while Stiles excitedly described the details of the birth to Scott and Derek shrugged good-naturedly, careful not to jostle the baby.

After sleeping a well deserved 8 restful hours Melissa had suggested that he should try nursing Leonie. It had taken a couple of tries but now that they were actually getting the hang of it, Leonie was turning out to be a pro, demanding to be fed every two hours.

“As soon as this child stops nursing these better be gone,” Derek responded and Allison couldn’t suppress a grin.

“I’m sure they will be … until the next one,” she said with a teasing smile.

“That won’t happen until at least another four years from now,” Derek answered and Stiles suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere, staring at their nursing baby in adoration.

“She’s not going to be an only-child after all?” he asked excitedly and Derek sighed contentedly.

“Only one more and that’s it,” he declared and Stiles beamed at him before gently stroking the baby’s head.

“Did you hear that Leonie? You are going to have a little brother named Jacob John!” he announced and Derek looked scandalized.

“No she’s not!” he said determinedly and Stiles’ smile widened even further.

“Yes she is! You agreed, don’t you remember?”

Derek looked genuinely confused. “I know that the hormones messed with my brain a little these past few months but trust me, I never agreed to the name Jacob John,” he said and Stiles chuckled.

“Yes you did! Just before Leonie was born, when I was afraid she was actually a boy and we were going to fail him by not having a boy’s name picked out. I very distinctly remember you saying that you didn’t care and we could name him Jacob John.”

Derek looked at him in silence for a minute, obviously flabbergasted. “You are not seriously holding me to something I said while my groin was turning into a bloody, torn, gaping hole,” he said incredulously and Stiles had the good grace to flinch.

“Uhm … maybe?” he asked and Derek shook his head, trying to look annoyed but failing when their daughter made the most adorable suckling sound.

“I love your daddy very much,” he addressed the child, gently detaching her from his skin and holding her up against his shoulder, patting her back just as Melissa had shown him earlier. “The fact that you are here right now is proof of how much I love your daddy,” he continued, settling her back into his arms and rocking her carefully. “I can’t promise you that I won’t be a Stupid Wolf sometimes while we are raising you, but, as you just saw, I’m not the only man around here who can sometimes be a little stupid, a term I am using liberally here by the way. However, I can promise you that you will not be an only child, but mark my words Pie, if your daddy doesn’t let go of his unnatural love for _Twilight,_ you better be happy with little sisters, because you are _never_ getting a brother.”

“Sister _s_?” Stiles asked and he actually had the nerve to fist pump Scott, mumbling, “Did you hear that? I bet I can talk him into at least three!” under his breath.  

Their next visitors were Lydia and Jackson and Jackson was so enraptured with the little girl that he didn’t even bother snapping at Stiles when the new father declared he was going to post the picture of the butch former Lacrosse Captain staring at the tiny baby as if she was the One Ring and he was Gollum all over Facebook.

“That’s because she _is_ the most _precious_ baby,” Jackson mumbled absently, grumbling when Lydia took the baby from him to say hello herself.

“Your uncle Jackson is a big sap even if he never wants to admit it,” she whispered to the child, smiling brightly at Stiles and Derek. “Well done boys, I couldn’t have done it better myself,” she declared, cooing at the baby when she let out a tiny yawn.

Leonie was sleeping when Isaac, Boyd, and Erica tiptoed into the nursery, and stood around the crib with matching sheepish smiles on their faces.

Peter arrived next and he grumbled when Stiles refused to share a celebratory cigar with him and argued that the secondhand smoke was bad for the baby.

“Are you ready for your first night alone,” Melissa asked an hour later, when she packed up her stuff to leave, the last of the pack to remain at their house.

“As ready as we’ll ever be, I guess,” Derek responded and Stiles nodded with a terrified little smile.

“You’ll do great,” Melissa said, pulling both of them into a firm hug. “I’m so proud of you – and I know your mothers would be, too.”

After she had left, Derek and Stiles tiptoed back into the nursery, watching their sleeping daughter in silence for a few minutes.

“I think I’m a little scared,” Stiles said quietly, prompting Derek to look at him questioningly.

“Why is that,” he asked and Stiles shrugged.

“I don’t know, it’s just that I look at her, and I just know that I would do _anything_ to protect her and that intensity really scares me,” he admitted, his eyes wandering back to Leonie, watching her little chest rise and fall gently.

Derek smiled – he had been having the same feelings ever since he had first felt her move and possibly even before that, back when he had first heard her heartbeat. It filled him with love and joy that Stiles shared his feelings, that he loved their daughter just as much as he did, even though he hadn’t shared the close connection of actually carrying her.

“I know,” he said, reaching a hand into the crib and gently stroking his index finger across her cheek, careful not to wake her.

“I wonder though,” he mused, a thought suddenly occurring to him that was just too good not to speak out loud, “how would you feel if someone, let’s say Isaac, marched up here tomorrow and declared that he had imprinted on her and was going to marry her as soon as she was old enough?”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked at Derek in horror. “I would castrate that curly-haired pervert myself,” he responded immediately, softly clapping his hand over his mouth when he realized what Derek was getting at.

“See?” Derek said, unable to keep the smug smile from his face. “I told you those stupid books crossed a line,” he continued and Stiles’ shoulders shook in silent laughter.

“I’m sure I have told you a thousand times already, and will probably do so every time I see our beautiful little girl from now on and remember that you were the one who gave her to me, but have I mentioned lately just how much I love you?” he asked and Derek kissed Stiles’ temple softly, before resting his head on his shoulder tiredly.

“And I love you – and her.”

“She really is perfect, isn’t she?” Stiles whispered and Derek smiled.

“She is, as you always suspected, the cutest, most beautiful baby in the entire universe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 26th of 2023 is indeed a Monday - coincidence that this chapter was posted on a Monday? I think not, dear readers!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Next Up: The last chapter, featuring a doting grandfather who all but has to wrestle his 6 weeks old granddaughter away from her parents so they can have some alone-time, some physical insecurities on Derek's part and Stiles behaving like every new father should.


	12. 6 Weeks Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 weeks after the baby's birth, the Sheriff finally wrestles her away from her parents so they can have some alone time, including Derek having some physical insecurities and Stiles behaving like every dad should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is is, the last chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who commented (especially my regulars) and all the people who gave kudos. 
> 
> I am not sure when I am going to post a new story to this verse (also I currently have like 6 WIPs in this Verse waiting to be written) and I really need to finish my House of Shards story (which, if you happen to be subscribed to it, will be updated soonish, I swear, it's just that unlike this one, House of Shards is kind of heavy to write for obvious reasons), BUT, here's a little hint of what's still to come:
> 
> \- The Interrogation Room One-Shot (a smut-fest with handcuffs basically)  
> \- The Stiles Wants Sparkle Sex in the Woods Twilight Roleplay Gone Wrong - One Shot (a wanna-be smut fest I'm afraid to say)  
> \- The one where, two years after the fact, Stiles realizes that being mated essentially means werewolf-married and he should have probably told his dad about that tiny little detail (a hopefully humorous Stilinski-Feels fiction)  
> \- The one taking place right before "Stiles and Derek Make a Baby", where the two actually arrive at that decision  
> \- The Sequel to this one, which will be titled "Something Borrowed, Something Blue ... And Two Pink Lines"  
> \- and, by special request, a story that's going to include tons of scenes from the "Stiles and Derek ..." stories told exclusively from Stiles' point of view
> 
> It's going to happen. I don't know which one I'll feel like writing next, but I've got notes and everything ;-). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter!
> 
> As you could probably tell, I like talking to you guys, I like to share my process and on the last chapter I got the first negative comment I have gotten on this fic so far and though I do think it was pretty fair criticism, I nevertheless wanted to take the time to respond to it in detail (given that it was the first and everything). I spent a lot of time with scholarly fan fiction theory, and it would be a shame to keep all these thoughts in my head. 
> 
> So fair warning, there's going to be a loooooong note at the end ;-).

_Epilogue – 6 Weeks Old, August 7 th, 2023_

When Leonie was six weeks old Sheriff Stilinski finally convinced the new parents to spend some alone time together, arguing that there was a fully equipped nursery in his guest room ready to receive his most favorite guest in the universe and reminding his son that it was important for new parents to take care of each other, as well as the baby.

It was mostly a cheap ploy to finally babysit Leonie, which Derek and Stiles were well aware of, but neither of them could really fault the proud grandfather for it. She was a beautiful baby, with large baby-blue eyes that would probably turn green like Derek’s when she was older and a mostly cheery disposition. Of course she wasn’t able to smile just yet, but Stiles had a feeling that their baby would be a happy baby. He couldn’t wait to see her toothless little grin.

They hadn’t gotten much sleep in the weeks since she had been born, as Leonie was still pretty much on an every two to three hour nursing schedule and Derek had started pumping when she had been a week old, desperate to get at least a little bit of sleep and allowing Stiles to bond with her through some of the late-night feedings.

Although he had left Peter a litany of curses and insults on his mailbox for the purchase of the breast pump, Derek now considered it to be the best gift of all that they had gotten. Three days after Leonie’s birth he had woken up not by their crying baby, but by painfully swollen breasts that to his tired eyes seemed to have almost doubled in size – coincidentally, so had Stiles’ eyes when he had seen him – and although the baby was a good eater, he was nevertheless happy to have the pump to relieve some of the pressure.

Derek had worked up enough overtime that he was now able to take a three months break, telling his employers that he had become a father and not even lying about it. Stiles had told his employer the same thing, managing to get four weeks of paid parental leave and a little “Welcome Baby Stilinski”-Bonus, which of course also had to do with the high value he had for the company, and they had been able to spend those first four weeks as a little family, occasionally visited by the pack.

Well – occasionally basically meant almost daily, but neither of them minded too much, the feeling of pack running through all of them stronger than ever now that there was a tiny little wolf-baby to protect and cherish.

Cora had almost cried when she had had to leave for Berkeley again, pushing a kiss onto Leonie’s head and telling her to grow as slowly as possible and making Stiles promise to send her at least five pictures a day. Usually, Stiles ended up sending at least ten.

It had been hard on both of them when Stiles had gone back to work, leaving Derek alone in the house for hours at a time, since the pack had their own lives of course, no matter how much they wanted to spend every possible free minute with Leonie.

He spent hours in the chair Scott had bought for them months ago, Leonie propped against the large nursing pillow as he fed her, his fingers usually in a tight grip from his daughter.

She was perfectly happy and content with Stiles, but at this point Derek was clearly her favorite. Derek joked that it was due to the fact he was also her food-source, but secretly knew that it was probably because of the tight bond they had formed during the pregnancy. Nothing calmed her down more efficiently than being draped across Derek’s chest and listening to his heartbeat, a sound that was so familiar to her.

Stiles wasn’t jealous at all, usually content with staring at the sight of his mate and daughter. He was always smiling these days, even when his eyes were threatening to fall shut, which gave him a decidedly dopey appearance, as Erica had commented helpfully.

With the baby finally being born, Derek saw a little less of Deaton and a lot more of Melissa, who stopped by regularly to coo at her granddaughter, dress her into her newest knitting project, and check up on his physical state.

He had been concerned to discover that he still looked at least 6 months pregnant the day after the birth and Melissa had researched some techniques that would help his uterus shrink, its magic obviously not strong enough – or not bothering – to shrink down to its normal size immediately after giving birth.

Now, six weeks later, Derek felt in the mood to harshly judge every actress who had ever flaunted her body after baby in a glossy magazine, promoting an absolutely impossible standard.

Thanks to his werewolf healing he did not have stretch marks, but pushing out an 8 pound 3 ounces baby, as well as months of a little too much Nutella, had definitely left a mark on his waistline.

Derek wasn’t a fool, he knew that he would be able to get his weight back under control as soon as he started running and pack training again, but for now he just couldn’t tear himself away from his baby long enough, the slow gradual weight loss caused by the nursing enough to keep him somewhat content.

The only thing that really bothered him was that Stiles had barely touched his belly in the weeks since the birth, probably afraid that he was going to hurt Derek or, possibly, a little turned-off by its post-birth appearance. Although they had done lots of cuddling, sometimes during the day and mostly during the night, when Derek was nursing their child and Stiles was spooned against his back, his chin hooked onto Derek’s shoulder to get a better look, Derek really missed having Stiles’ hands all over him. There was no longer a baby inside of him that Stiles could caress through his skin, but Derek was a creature of habit and he missed Stiles’ worshiping touch on his belly more than he wanted to admit, having gotten so used it in the past nine months, during which Stiles had barely been able to keep his hands _off_ his growing midsection.

Neither Deaton nor Melissa had been sure when they could have sex again, since the birth canal had disappeared now that it was no longer necessary, but they had nevertheless refrained from touching each other in a sexual way, both of them having read about the recommended six weeks pause and somehow having taken it to heart. Not to mention that they barely had time to sleep, let alone do anything else these days.

It was probably a coincidence that the Sheriff had insisted to take Leonie off their hands tonight, exactly six weeks after she had been born – at least Derek refused to believe otherwise.

After they had dropped Leonie off at her doting grandfather’s, who had waved them away with a grin when they had tried to explain everything he should look out for and commented that Stiles had clearly survived his infancy, they drove home and Derek made himself comfortable in the armchair while Stiles busied himself with making him dinner.

The chair smelled like baby powder and Leonie and Derek shook his head at himself when he began to tear up, feeling a little silly for missing his daughter already and yet not able to stop the sniffling.

“Are you being a Sniffy Wolf?” Stiles asked gently when he came into the living room, carrying two plates of seafood pasta and two glasses of sparkling grape juice. He had decided to skip alcohol in solidarity with Derek while he still nursed, declaring it unfair that Derek still couldn’t drink even though he was no longer pregnant, and although it wasn’t necessary, Derek had appreciated the gesture.

“She’s going to be alright with your dad, right?” Derek asked and Stiles joined him on the large armchair before he kissed him softly, placing his hands on Derek’s hips in an almost shy gesture.

“She’s going to be fine momma-bear,” he said, although he suddenly sounded suspiciously congested himself.

“If anything, I’m a momma-wolf, not a momma-bear,” Derek commented dryly, wiping his eyes determinedly and focusing on the food his mate had cooked for them.

“This was excellent, thank you,” he said some time later, leaning over to place the plate on the couch table and rubbing his stomach with a contented sigh, having gotten so used to the gesture during the pregnancy that it was now second nature to him, although he was no longer carrying their baby.

He held his breath when Stiles’ hand joined his, interlacing their fingers over the soft remaining roundness of his belly.

“I love you,” he whispered into Derek’s ear before capturing his mouth in a kiss that was definitely hungry for something other than food.

“I was thinking …” he continued, softly nipping against the sensitive hollow of Derek’s throat “… I don’t know if you’re up for it yet, but if you are, I would really, really love it if I could ride you,” he continued, his free hand slipping between Derek’s legs and rubbing gently.

Derek moaned softly, thrills of pleasure running through him at the familiar pressure of Stiles’ hand.

“Are you sure?” he said quietly, moving the hand that was still interlaced with Stiles’ to cup his slightly protruding belly. “I’m still not a hundred percent my old self,” he continued and Stiles laughed lightly, moving his legs so he was able to straddle Derek.

“In the past six weeks I was either focusing on how amazingly perfect our daughter is or how amazingly perfect you are and the latter was usually accompanied by very indecent thoughts, let me assure you,” he said, leaning down to gently bite Derek’s collarbone.

“I’ve _missed_ you, I’ve missed _us_ ,” he breathed and Derek went pliant under his ministrations.

“I thought you were waiting for me to go back to normal, you know, minus breasts and pudge and all,” he said and Stiles smacked his head playfully, making tsking sounds with his tongue.

“Not surprisingly, you are being an adorable Stupid Wolf,” he declared, his hand coming up to stroke the breasts lightly.

“I know it’s not your favorite part of your anatomy, and I’ve got to admit I do prefer your penis quite a bit myself, but these don’t turn me off at all, now even less than before, and if these are the only reason I haven’t been allowed to touch you for weeks then that’s a really bad reason,” he declared softly, smiling when Derek pulled him up for another deep kiss, murmuring that he was always allowed to touch into the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

He gently nudged against Derek’s arms and Derek lifted them obediently, allowing Stiles to tug his shirt off of him.

“For the record Derek,” Stiles continued, giving the breasts a last gentle squeeze before moving down and trailing feathery kisses over his stomach.

“These are temporary and they are nourishing our baby, which I am more than perfectly alright with and this …” he gently nosed against Derek’s navel before biting down onto the chubbiest part of his stomach lightly, “… this is the reminder that you carried our baby, the greatest gift you could have ever given me and I love every single inch of it,” he muttered, his hands squeezing Derek’s sides gently, smiling against the skin when he could finally feel Derek relax completely.

“I really need you inside of me though,” he whispered, his hands tugging at Derek’s pants and Derek lifted his hips, moaning when his erection was freed. “Well _hello_ there, you have no idea how much I missed _you_ ,” Stiles grinned and before Derek could make a snarky comment, he had already closed his lips over the straining member, rolling his tongue across the head and sucking lightly.

“Need to prepare you,” Derek gasped out between moans and Stiles chuckled around him, releasing his length with a wet pop.

“Way ahead of you Derek,” he grinned, removing his pants and underwear in one go and positioning himself above Derek, sinking down onto him slowly.

“So good,” he groaned and Derek’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he inhaled deeply, overwhelmed by the almost forgotten sensation.

He bucked up his hips against Stiles’ experimentally and moaned in pleasure when Stiles tightened around him and let out a deep groan, his hands coming to grab Derek’s stomach and gently kneading it.

“I love you so, so much,” he gasped, picking up his pace and riding Derek for good now, his mouth falling open in pleasure.

It was a sight Derek had dearly missed and he snapped his hips up against his mate, enjoying the fact that he was no longer weighed down by a heavy belly.

He grasped Stiles’ hips and ground the younger man into him, arching his back to reach Stiles’ nipples and when he gently bit one of them, Stiles shot his come all over his belly and chest, having waited too long for this to be able to hold out any longer.

“Don’t stop,” Derek gasped, feeling close and yet needing more and after taking a quick moment Stiles obliged him, rolling his hips against Derek’s groin with delicious friction and finally Derek came as well, the orgasm so strong that tears began to pool in his eyes.

“We’ve still got it,” Stiles said when they had recovered and retired to the bed, smiling brightly at his exhausted mate when he got under the covers next to him.

“Does it make us bad parents if we drop Pie off at her grandpa’s at least once a week from now on?” he continued and Derek smiled sleepily.

“I’m sure none of these books you made me read mentioned regular sexiling of the baby as a good parenting technique,” he said and Stiles stretched next to him with a contented sigh.

“We should learn how to multi-task then, you know, as proper parents do,” he suggested and Derek nodded.

“That sounds reasonable – I propose our first act of multi-tasking should be hot morning sex while we get ready to pick up Pie from her grandpa’s.”

“Shower-sex … my favorite,” Stiles yawned and Derek laughed softly.

“Try it without the yawn and I’ll even believe you,” he teased and his mate grunted, before snuggling into Derek and resting his flat palm on his belly, his fingers stroking the soft skin in soothing circular motions and lulling Derek into a deep sleep soon after.

 

================

 

“I think multi-tasking would have probably meant getting out of the shower _before_ the water ran cold,” Derek mused as Stiles was steering the jeep to his father’s house the next day. The Camaro simply wasn’t made for a large baby car-seat and Derek had grudgingly accepted that it would take a while until Leonie was old enough to enjoy the sports car, which is why they currently went everywhere in the jeep.

“I don’t know what you are complaining about, I had a great time,” Stiles replied, giving Derek a leering grin that was so over the top it made the werewolf laugh out loud.

“No complaints from me,” he assured his mate, who nodded with a satisfied smirk.

When they pulled up in front of the house the Sheriff was sitting on the front porch, enjoying the August warmth and the rocking chair he had bought on the day they had found out they were expecting Leonie.

He smiled at them in greeting, his hands currently occupied with holding and feeding their baby girl, who, having smelled her parents approaching, was trying to twist her head towards them without having to stop drinking.

“Hey Pie,” Stiles smiled brightly, dropping down to his knees next to the rocking chair and kissing the baby’s soft head.

“Were you a good little girl for grandpa?” he asked and John chuckled, lifting up the baby so he could burp her.

“She was a very attention-demanding little girl for grandpa, but luckily grandpa’s attitude is ‘Who needs sleep when you can spend time with your gorgeous granddaughter?’” the Sheriff said with a tired grin and Derek winced in sympathy.

“I think all these parents who claim their babies slept through the night from the beginning are lying through their teeth,” he said, holding out his hands longingly for the little girl when the Sheriff lifted her from his shoulder.

“She’s a werewolf and she has Stiles’ natural curiosity, there is no wonder she wants to be awake as much as possible,” the Sheriff said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately.

“Sleep is overrated anyways,” Stiles added, grinning at Derek who was busy saying hi to their daughter.

Leonie flashed her golden eyes at her father and Alpha in greeting, before her lips stretched into an adorable little smile. Derek gasped.

“Oh my god, Stiles, look,” he breathed in wonderment, holding her so that both her father and grandfather could see and both Stilinski men stood up immediately, forming a circle around the baby who flashed both of them a smile before focusing her attention back on Derek, her little fingers waving in the air until she got a hold of Derek’s index finger.

“It’s her first smile,” Stiles whispered in awe, blinking rapidly as if he was fighting tears and Derek flashed his mate a teary-eyed smile himself, with only a tiny part of him wondering if the hormonal crying would _ever_ stop when it came to their daughter.

Stiles suddenly wrapped both arms around his waist, snuggling into Derek’s shoulder and giving him a look that was full of love, adoration … and amusement.

“Do you remember how I once said that all of your wolf personas are an alliteration? Sour Wolf, Stupid Wolf, Sniffy Wolf, Sappy Wolf, Sexy Wolf? Well, this only proves it. You are not only Stiles’ Wolf, you are also – and undeniably so – Sweetie Pie’s Wolf.”

Overwhelmed, Derek gently kissed his daughter’s forehead, inhaling her sweet baby smell.

He had always loved being Stiles’ Wolf most of all but now, in his mate’s embrace and with their daughter cradled in his arms he had to reconsider.

What he loved most of all was being Stiles’ _and_ Sweetie Pie’s Wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes my first mpreg fan fiction. Again, thank you to all of you, including the person whose comment inspired the following: 
> 
> I am a woman (who is not a native speaker of English by the way), I have never been pregnant - yet I chose to write about men, who have sex with other men and get pregnant, which means that I basically set myself up for people going "You have no idea what you are talking about, it's not at all like that." I was therefore a little surprised I must say that the first complaint I got on this fic wasn't "That's not realistic" but "You made the baby a girl, that's so cliche, I'm done reading." 
> 
> I have been reading mpreg for a long time and yes: there are more girls born in mpreg fics than boys, though I never really felt the ratio was higher than 45 to 55 (I even want to say that in some fandoms there are much more boy-mpregs actually). In fact, I have read quite a lot of mpregs where Stiles and Derek have a boy (though usually birthed by Stiles, that is true), however, as someone who actually knows quite a bit about academic fan fiction theory, let me give you an educated guess based on theory for why there are more girls born in mpregs than boys and then the very simple reason for why I decided to make her a girl.
> 
> There have been at least three waves of scholars who researched fan fiction since the 70s, and the most predominant question has been, and continues to be, why is it 95 percent women and why do they write Slash? There are a couple of explanations that have been offered but for my case, the one that is most relevant is the following. Apart from the obvious (two hot dudes, double the hotness), and thoughts about how authors challenged Hollywood hegemony by pushing the boundaries of what's acceptable on television, there have also been scholars who argue that women writing about two men in a relationship are in a way voicing their desire for equal partnerships in which one gender does not dominate the other based on social or traditional norms. 
> 
> Now I'm not saying that is true for all fan fiction writers, but to me, the fact that there are more girls born in mpreg stories makes perfect sense when viewed through this lens. I was the first girl in a long time that was born into my father's side of the family. My father, grandfather, and uncles were ecstatic to finally have a little girl to spoil (in fact I actually remained the only girl for my generation) but I can't even count the number of occurrences where I have met, overheard, or known guys who just really didn't want a girl. We also don't need to get into a discussion about societies that prohibit gender detection in ultrasound appointments because of female infanticide. It's a damn shame that this is still such a huge issue in 2014 but well, it is, and it's not like people aren't aware of it. 
> 
> I'm not saying all men want sons and not daughters, that's obviously not true (!!!), however, look at celebrity baby announcements on websites. When new dads of girls say they'll just keep going until they get a boy, people FREAK OUT in the comment section (while on the other hand, when new dads of boys say they'll just keep going until they get their little girl the outcry isn't nearly as bad, which is of course quite unfair as well to boys). But that's how we are wired and therefore, it really does not surprise me that women would want to see two men completely fall in love with their little newborn daughter when society and the media are still pretty much pushing our noses onto the fact that there still is no gender equality.
> 
> Again, I was raised as and continue to be, a doted on daddy's girl even as an adult, but let me give you some pretty recent data in the form of this Gallup poll: 
> 
> http://www.gallup.com/poll/148187/americans-prefer-boys-girls-1941.aspx
> 
> I'm going to summarize it for you if you don't want to read the whole thing: in 2011, when asked which gender they would prefer if they could only have one child, 40 percent of men said boy and 22 percent said girl. In contrast the difference in gender preference among women was significantly smaller (33 percent girl and 31 percent boy). 
> 
> Call it a revolution against our culture that apparently still succeeds in making a lot of men believe that boy children are preferable, call it a desire to see some gender equality, the fact that male pregnancies in fan fictions have a slightly higher tendency to result in a female birth is not surprising. 
> 
> That being said, none of what I just said had any decisive input on my decision to make Stiles and Derek's firstborn a girl. Here is the shocking reason: I'm a big sister, I know what it's like to have rambunctious little brothers and - Spoiler Alert - as the Alliteration-Verse continues, this first-hand knowledge will come in handy. That, in essence, is all there is to it

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be approximately 40,000 words long. It is almost done, I am rewriting and proof-reading as we speak, so updates will probably be daily. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr: http://kaliopeshipsit.tumblr.com/


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